


A Letter For Ian

by miikhailo



Category: Shameless (US), Shameless - Fandom
Genre: 6x01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gallavich, Getting Back Together, Jealous Ian Gallagher, M/M, Mickey dances on a stage, Mickey gets out of prison, fistfights, legally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikhailo/pseuds/miikhailo
Summary: Ian Gallagher's moved on since Mickey went to prison over a year ago. He's got a boyfriend and a new life. That is, until more than one Milkovich show back up in his life and remind him of what he's been missing.





	1. Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this is a fic centered around the timeline of season 7, so some things will be accurate to that storyline and some things will be...well you'll see. this is what I wish could've happened and who knows, hopefully some of it will happen next season. also, I have no idea how long this fic will be so just hang tight and please give any feedback or thoughts you have! thanks, enjoy!!!

"Ian!" Ian started as he heard his name being screamed, drawing him out of the stupor he'd been in for the past few minutes.

"I've asked you three times you want pancakes or waffles?" Fiona said with an annoyed tone. 

Ian looked up to find her staring at him, one hand on her hip with a spatula in the other looking ready to smack him. 

"Uh, neither. I'll just grab something at the station" he hurriedly said, grabbing his bag and bolting out the door. "See ya Fiona!" 

Fuck, he was gonna be late again and that's the last impression he wanted to make on his smiley-cute-yet-could-kick-your-ass mentor he'd been riding with for the past few weeks. Something had felt off with him the whole day yesterday. 

He'd gone over to Trevor's and had ended up getting in a fight over the fact that he ignored Trevor's call inviting him to some party his friend was throwing. Trevor knew Ian didn't have anything else going on, but if Ian was being honest, he just didn't feel up for it. Instead he'd decided to go for a drive around the South Side, something he liked to do when he wasn't feeling his best. 

He'd happened to be passing through a neighborhood, taking turn after turn without thinking, when a sudden familiar mailbox came into view up ahead of him to the left. 

Same vacant, rundown porch with random pieces of furniture and papers strewn everywhere. Same porch Ian had walked up too many times to count. Except this time the porch wasn't so vacant. As he slowed down so that the person behind him had to slam on their breaks to keep from rear ending him, Ian caught a flash of blonde hair on a woman bent down on the porch struggling to pick up a rusted coffee table with its glass tabletop smashed out. 

He had tried to get a better look at her face, but as she began to turn around the jarring horn of the car behind him forced Ian to break his stare and drive speedily off with a series of curses flowing his way from the pissed off driver.  
*  
"And also me and your sister are getting married." 

Thinking about his encounter yesterday had made Ian zone out again and he looked up to find Sue rolling her eyes. 

"Did you hear one word I said Ian?" Sue ground out as she crossed her arms. 

Ian grinned, "Yeah should I wear a black tux? Or switch it up a bit with white? Lip says I look good in white." 

Sue laughed and playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Shut the fuck up and get moving Ian, and don't let me catch you zoning out again!" Sue started walking toward the ambulance and Ian followed, hoisting his EMT bag over his shoulder and climbing into the back. 

For some reason he couldn't get the image of that lady out of his head. Had someone bought the Milkovich house? His first thought was who the hell would buy that piece of shit, run-down dump? It was only a matter of time before a pipe burst or the roof collapsed from the billions of leaks in the ceiling. But with Terry and Mickey in prison, he guessed there was no one around to pay the bills with Mandy being gone and the other brothers not having enough money to keep the house afloat. 

Ian smiled and looked down as the ambulance pulled out of the dimly lit garage. There were a lot of memories in that house. Some good, some bad. Mostly good, at least when Terry wasn't around. 

Ian had felt like he'd built almost a sort of family in that place what with taking care of Yevgeny and looking out for Mandy when her abusive shithead boyfriend was in a mood. The Milkovich home at one point felt more like a home to Ian than his own when he'd wake up to the smell of Mickey making coffee in the morning or Svetlana hushing Yevgeny back to sleep. 

He missed his old routine of closing his eyes, the last image before him being the smoky-black hair of the man curled into him in bed. Waking up knowing he'd still be holding that same person, being able to wrap his hands around Mickey's chest and burrow his face into the crook of Mickey's neck. 

It'd been over a year since Ian had felt that reassured going to sleep, content with the life he'd created. There were lows during that time though. God, so many lows. It broke his heart having to look at Mickey's face, ashamed at himself but knowing the other boy wasn't judging him. He just wanted to get Ian help and that meant the world to Ian. 

It was hard for Ian to show his appreciation though, he wanted to be able to do things his way and it scared him that he wasn't in control of himself sometimes. He felt bad for not visiting Mickey ever, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 8 years was a fucking long time and he had to get on with his life, which is what he'd been doing recently and he was proud of himself. 

Becoming an EMT was hard as shit but he was slowly learning the ropes and felt comfortable going on rides with Sue, his boss and mentor.  
*  
"You see how cold it's gonna get this weekend? Below double digits. Better pack some hot chocolate in the ambulance," Sue joked as they headed down toward the North Side. 

Ian glanced over, "I'm more of an eggnog guy." 

Sue made a sound of disgust. "Fuckin' pussy." 

Ian looked out the window to see where they were headed as huge, looming mansions with engraved fences surrounding their perfectly-trimmed lawns began to come into view. Yep, this was the fuckin' North Side. Ian had only been over here a few times, one being to visit his dad which had ended in an awkward staring contest and handshake goodbye. 

"So, gotta girlfriend?," Clayton had asked and Ian had shot up mumbling something about the chicken at home in the oven being done. 

It was a different time now. He'd grown from a little boy shaking with nerves at the thought of meeting his real father to a grown, confident man feeling a little bit more in control of his life. 

"What are we doing here again?," Ian side-eyed Sue since she hadn't turned on the sirens to signal an emergency. 

"Required drive through some of the fancy-shmancy neighborhoods. State wants to make sure we're keeping a watch over the rich bitches," Sue's voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Ian had figured out early on she was Southside. Whether it was because of sarcastic comments like these or the fact that she occasionally flipped off men walking down the streets in Brooks Brothers suits, he couldn't put his finger on it. 

Ian was just about to return an equally-dripping sarcastic comment when he saw a woman just leaving one of the more grand houses to the right. Her face was turned toward the door as she waved goodbye, and as her head whipped around so her blonde hair caught the winter sun shining down, Ian let out a strangled sound of surprise. 

"Stop the car!" he yelled at Sue, already jumping out of the car before she could stop it all the way. 

Ian stood there shell-shocked as his childhood best friend let out a cry, "Ian!" She started toward him, her dark high heels clipping the sidewalk.

Dressed in an auburn colored top with a low v-neckline, black skinny jeans, and a black faux fur jacket, Mandy fucking Milkovich ran toward him.

"What the...fuck? Mandy? When did you get back? Why didn't you call me? The fuck are you doing here?" 

Mandy stretched out her hands and embraced Ian in a hug, her head resting against Ian's chest and Ian's face nuzzled into her neck. She smelled good, like gardenias, and he felt her hair tickle his face. 

Mandy pulled away to stare at Ian with a smile, her eyes shining with tears. 

"God, I just got home yesterday and was gonna call you to catch up but I've been busy at home trying to get rid of all of Terry's shit. It's fucking depressing." 

Ian cocked his head and remembered seeing someone on their porch yesterday. 

"Wait, I drove by your house yesterday, that was you? I had no idea you were home!" 

Mandy playfully punched his shoulder. "Told ya I would've called sooner but there's a lot going on. You wanna come over and help me clean up some shit? Apparently no one else gives a fuck that our house has looked like a dump for the past year, jesus," Mandy rolled her eyes and swept away the bangs from her face. 

"Uh...," Ian glanced back at an impatient Sue in the window and gave her a 'Sorry but I gotta split look.'

Sue flipped him off and drove speedily away, leaving Ian and Mandy standing in the middle of the pristine, North Side pavement. 

"Yeah, sure," Ian said as he turned back. "What are you even doing over here?" 

Mandy nodded toward the house she'd come from. "Had to drop a gift off at my friend's house. She got me a job at this salon a few blocks away and I fuckin' owe her. I mean, I'm not technically working there but it's kinda like a paid internship for now since," spreading her hands in an annoyed gesture, "apparently I'm gonna be here awhile." 

Mandy rustled around in her purse and pulled out an iPhone 6s, quickly tapping her fingers around the screen. 

"I'm gonna call an Uber to get us back, unless you wanna risk getting sacked on the way home," Mandy grinned and looked back down at her phone. 

"Mkay. But you still haven't said why you're even here? I mean I love you and all but if I got outta here like you, no way I'd come back. Least for awhile." 

Mandy gave Ian a sly look, her eyebrows shooting up as if she had a dark secret. 

"That's the best part of the story. Got a call two days from the prison my dad's been in. Shithead's DEAD!," as she said this word her face lit up even more with a beaming smile. "Can you believe it? Had to put up with him for this long and he had to die when I'd already left? God." 

Ian's eyebrows shot up, this was news he hadn't expected to hear. "What the fuck? How the fuck he die in there?" 

"Who knows," Mandy said with a roll of her eyes, "least it happened. And maybe it's not so bad I had to come back here for that. You're here right?"

They'd been standing there talking for about five minutes before a grey BMW pulled up that Ian guessed was their Uber. Mandy opened the right car door and slid into the far side in the back while Ian sat down next to her, shutting the door on his way. 

"South Side," Mandy's voice rang out loudly in the enclosed space. "I'll tell you the address when we get closer." 

The quite good looking older man turned around and nodded. Ian's eyebrow shot up and he leaned toward Mandy. 

"Holy fuck," he whispered, "Our driver kinda looks like Rob Lowe." 

Mandy made a sound of disgust. "God, you and your older men kink." 

Ian grinned, "Hey, don't knock it til you've tried it right?" 

"Fuck off" Mandy said in between laughs. "Not really into men nowadays for your information." 

Ian tilted his head and looked at her. "Oh? You're gay now or something?" 

Mandy returned his stare and gave him a side smile. "Mm not so much gay, maybe bi? All I know is I met some really hot girls back in Indiana." 

It was Ian's turn to make a displeased groaning sound. 

"Hey," Mandy said haughtily, mimicking Ian, "don't knock it til you've tried it."  
If only she knew what he'd put himself through a few months ago...


	2. Home Again

The drive to the Milkovich house was fairly uneventful with Mandy chattering on about the renovations she wanted to make now that she'd come into some serious money. It seemed like she was planning on staying here for now, which was fine with Ian. He loved having his best friend back. 

She was someone who understood him better than most people he'd welcomed into his life since she'd left. Trevor and his new friends were great and all, but there was nothing that came close to the connection he had with the people he grew up with. They all shared the experiences of growing up together in the Southside, and that wasn't something that ever went away. 

"So I'm still not sure what to do with the kitchen. I mean I obviously wanna rip the shit out of it but like, we need a place to eat outside of that little corner right? You know what? Fuck it, let's just rip all of it out and start over," Mandy said as she stared out the window. 

Ian looked at her and smiled, "You planning on doing that all by yourself? You're gonna need the fuckin' Property Brothers to make that place look good." 

"It actually has pretty good potential Ian," Mandy glared at him, "plus I'll have all my brothers here so it'll be easy." 

Ian shrugged. "Well, not all of them." 

Mandy gave him a confused look but decided to keep going. "Anyways, I think that and Mickey's room should be the first to get redone. He'd like that right? I feel like I owe him I guess, I dunno." 

Ian was about to ask her what she meant by that when her phone went off. 

"Ah hold on, it's my boss," she said as she swiped right and answered.   
*  
Ian didn't have a chance to continue their discussion as they were just pulling up to the house when Mandy got off the phone. 

"Alright, sounds great, I'll tell you if I can later. Gotta go." Mandy slid the phone back in her purse and hopped out energetically. 

Ian took an unsteady step out of the car as it sped off, the Rob Lowe lookalike not even taking another glance at Ian to his disappointment. Looking at the house, Ian wasn't so sure about agreeing to go inside anymore. What if Iggy or Colin were home? It would be kind of awkward considering the state he'd left their brother in last year. 

Oh well, he wanted to talk to Mandy more and there was no way she was gonna change her plans now. Mandy nodded her head toward the door and he followed her up the steps making sure to avoid the loose wooden panels scattered across the porch. 

The inside was the same as he remembered. The torn-up couch with opened bags of snacks spread across it, the table in the middle of the living room littered with all types of guns Ian couldn't begin to name, and the TV still set up in the corner where Ian used to watch movies all night long. 

Mandy disappeared down the hallway where all the siblings' rooms were and reappeared carrying two huge, stacked boxes labeled "My shit. Don't touch." She hoisted them onto the table that Ian had always considered their "dining room" and rubbed her hands together. 

"Okay, so first thing's first, can you fold all these clothes and just make 'em look neat or whatever? I know he won't really care but might as well go all out right?" 

Ian nodded and walked over. "Whose clothes are they?" 

Mandy laughed, the dimples in her cheeks becoming more prominent. "Mickey's dumbass. Who else's shit would I be folding right now? It's a special occasion." 

Ian stopped folding a faded blue cutoff tank and glanced up, annoyed at how vague she'd been since they got in the car. 

"Okay seriously, what the fuck's going? I tried to ask you in the car but-" Ian was cut off as Mandy's phone rang again and she made a hiss, signaling him to shut up for a second.

She swiped the phone again and quickly held it up to her ear. 

"Hello? Yes it's she. Yes he is. Really? I thought it was tonight? Okay, okay thanks for calling. Mhm bye." Mandy slammed the phone face down into the table, a second later checking to make sure she hadn't shattered the damn screen. 

Ian had had it with being cut off, what the fuck was going on? 

"Mandy," Ian tried to get her attention as she was suddenly rushing around the kitchen and living room trying to straighten everything she could by shoving the heaps of trash into a bag lying on the floor, "Mandy please, who was on the phone? What's happening?" 

Ian couldn't hide his annoyance anymore and he knew she noticed because she suddenly stopped to grab him by the shoulders and stare him in the eye. 

"I thought we had more time, at least three hours or so to clean but that was the prison calling. Damn! He's on his way right now!" 

Mandy resumed frantically piling opened bags of Cheetos and bottles of beer into the bursting trash bag. 

"WHO?!" Ian shouted, grabbing his hair in frustration and throwing his hands up.

Mandy whipped around and practically yelled, annoyed at Ian for being so dense, "MICKEY! HE'S ON HIS WAY RIGHT NOW! I really wanted to clean the place up for him and I thought we had a few hours Ian! Now can you help me? Goddam!" 

Ian's throat suddenly felt dry. He tried to swallow before speaking but he felt like his throat had closed up, so when he spoke it came out in a raspy whisper. 

"What?" 

Mandy glanced up holding a drink from Sizzler's, "Yeah I know right? They coulda given us a little warning. Fuckin' annoying bastards." 

Ian tried to lean on a dining room chair but his fingers were numb and he couldn't feel where the chair was. 

"No, no, he's-he's in prison Mandy. Eight years. Someone-that must've been a prank call, you-you haven't been here-" 

Mandy cut Ian off before he could stumble over more words. "Are you like, high right now or something? You fuckin' knew he was coming home Ian. Are you okay?" 

Mandy laughed and gave him a quizzical look. Ian didn't even know what to say, his mind felt foggy and he was downright confused. 

She continued. "Aren't you happy? Why do you look like you're about to pass out? Your damn boyfriend's coming home so just, chill and he'll get here when he gets here." 

Mandy was still looking at Ian when an expression passed over his face that made her pause working. It was like an epiphany and a look of dread at the same time. 

"Fuck" Ian whispered. "Oh fuck, oh fuck. You don't know. You really don't. He didn't...he didn't tell you?" 

Now it was Mandy's turn to look confused. She walked over and rubbed Ian's arms again trying to comfort him. Ian slowly extricated one arm to rub the back of his neck. 

He sighed and looked at her. "We...I...I broke up with him. Right before he went to prison." 

When Mandy still didn't say anything, just staring up at Ian in disbelief, he added awkwardly "Like...last year. Uh, like over...over a year ago." 

Mandy slowly released his shoulders and held her hand up to her cheek.

"He never told me" she whispered. "I mean, we only talked a couple of times but he never mentioned it. He said he...he said he was good." 

Ian reached out to touch her hand but she pulled away, turning around. Ian felt like he was in a dream. His first instinct was to bolt, but something had overcome him in the last minute. He wanted to see Mickey. He wanted to see his face again, up close. He wanted to just look at him, see him walk through that door with the typical swagger he always had. He wanted to talk to him. Ian was overwhelmed by his own thoughts. 

Sure he had thought about Mickey a lot, he never stopped thinking about him. But to see him in person? After over a year trying to heal from that last visit? Ian sometimes confused even himself. Why would he wanna see Mickey in person right now? Right here? Dumbass move, Ian thought. 

But something held him there and he continued to stand there, dropping his hand away from Mandy. When Mandy turned around, all the cheerful energy seemed to have escaped out the window. Her gaze was steady and cool, her face stony.

"I think you should leave," her husky voice almost at a whisper, but loud enough to deliver the blow to Ian. 

Ian took a step back, his eyebrows raising in surprise at her tone. "You...what? No I wanna-I wanna see him. It's okay, I can handle it." 

Mandy's jaw clenched a little. 

"I know you can," her voice emphasizing the "you." 

Ian cast a hand over his face in mild frustration and confusion. Why was she being so cold all of the sudden? 

"Listen, Mandy, it wasn't like that okay? Why do you even care so much? You've been gone, it wasn't even your relationship." 

Ian tried to keep his voice down but it rose slightly at the last sentence. He wasn't really mad at Mandy, it was just confusion at the whole situation mixed with a weird combination of dread and disbelief at the thought of seeing Mickey again. And it didn't help that she was trying to pin all the blame on him, although deep down he knew what she meant. After all, he'd changed "we" to "I" in his explanation about the breakup.

Mandy clenched and unclenched her fists at her side. "I fucking know Ian! I fucking know that. Yes, wow, thank you for alerting me that it wasn't my relationship. It was my fucking brother's. The one who...I don't know, loved you? Was a good person? For you?" 

Mandy threw her hands in the air, revving herself up. 

"I mean what the fuck could've possibly happened when I was gone? Huh? He goes to jail and that's it, you just drop him on his ass? Or wait? Wait! Did you say you broke up before he even went to prison? Even fucking better-" 

Ian interrupted her by clapping his hands together harshly in front of him and now they were talking over each other, trying to be louder than the other person. 

"Let me say again Mandy-" 

"I mean who would've thought you of all people-" 

"You weren't fucking here!-"

"The one who always bitched about having a boyfriend who like, DOES stuff for you-" 

"So you can't really judge the situation-" 

"And then you finally had that and you JUST-" 

"IF YOU DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!" 

"DONT GIVE A FUCK!" 

With both of them seething now, Ian's hands gripping the sides of his head and Mandy's fists clenched again with her outraged stare burning into Ian, it was a bit of a surprise to both of them when they heard the click of the front door and the sound of hinges creaking.

Mandy whipped around and back at Ian. 

"Fuck!," she half screamed and half whispered. 

Ian's mouth fell slack. He really was planning on leaving, sure he had that sudden urge fantasizing about seeing him, but to actually go through with that? Fuck no. No way in hell he was gonna do that. 

But here Ian was, standing there with his hands still gripping his head and a frantic Mandy whipping back and forth from him to the door. 

Suddenly the inside door that led into the actual living room opened and in strolled Iggy carrying a beer in one hand and some paperwork in the other. Whistling, he looked Ian up and down as he made his way to the living room couch to plop down. 

"What's with the ginger here again?," he casually asked as Mandy threw desperate glances his way trying to indicate the situation about to happen. 

Iggy didn't notice though, carelessly throwing the papers down on the table and collapsing onto the couch. 

Ian hurriedly grabbed his coat from the counter and made a beeline for the door, hoping that Iggy's passenger was a little more slow and hadn't made it out of the car yet. As luck would've had it, of course, that wasn't the case.

As Ian's hand was just reaching for the inside door, the main door swung open hitting the wall behind it with a bang and in stepped Mickey fucking Milkovich.

Ian's hand released the door knob and he backed away as Mickey slowly walked in. He still hadn't seen Ian because he was bent down, multitasking opening the door and struggling with his coat. Apparently the zipper was caught as he was hunched down trying to get it unzipped.

"Stupid fucking piece of shit fucking prison jacket fucking burn in-" Mickey cut himself off as he abruptly looked up, seeing Ian through the screen of the inside door. 

His jaw slackened and his eyebrows shot up, his hands slowly falling away from the zipper. 

Ian suddenly found the ability to feel his hands again, so he awkwardly jerked open the screen door. Now he was seeing Mickey for real, in the flesh, nothing separating them this time. They both just stared at each other for a minute with, Ian was sure, Mandy having an apocalyptic fit behind them. 

But he couldn't hear anything. His ears were buzzing with that feeling you get when you stand up too fast. Dizzy with all noise drowned out. Ian opened his mouth and closed it, licking his lips. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, each thumping beat trying to escape out of him. 

"Your hair looks good" Ian shot out in a hoarse matter-of-fact statement. 

As dumb as it sounded. Ian couldn't believe he was standing here in the middle of what was about to be World War fucking 3 and all he could say was "Your hair looks good." 

At this point Ian was wishing either Mickey or Mandy would just come up and bitchslap him across the face for that comment so he could find the momentum to move. Even Iggy was welcome right now. But instead of that happening, they both just stood there. Ian glanced back and saw Mandy wringing her hands in nervousness. 

Since Ian obviously wasn't getting slapped unfortunately, he took this moment to fling the screen door open. Grabbing his jacket that he'd dropped again, he brushed past Mickey who didn't bother moving out of his way and rushed out the door. Ian didn't even wait to call an Uber, he still didn't really even know what the fuck that was. He took the porch steps two at a time and fast-walked out of the yard, leaving two stunned Milkoviches and one passed-out one to deal with the aftermath.


	3. Gabriel

It was chaos in the Milkovich house. Jaime and Colin had just been pulling up when they saw a familiar redhead do an Olympic sprint across their lawn and disappear around the corner, naturally dropping his jacket yet again on the pavement without realizing. 

They burst through the front door that was left wide open to find Mickey and Mandy screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. Iggy was still on the couch, a hand thrown across his face to ward off the noise. 

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET HIM IN?!," Mickey was finishing yelling as they came in, waving his hands wildly in the air. 

Mandy had her hands pressed to her face stretching the skin of her cheeks out. "OH I'M SORRY, WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOU AND HIM BROKE UP? YOU NEVER FUCKING TOLD ME!" 

Mickey drew his eyebrows in with two fingers in annoyance, "Yeah, well, I guess you have a point there," he mumbled trying to calm himself down. 

It wasn't working. His heart was beating like crazy. He could feel the blood rushing to his head as if he was hanging upside down. Closing his eyes, he still saw the image that was there when he walked into his house for the first time in over a year. 

And it was Ian Gallagher, really? Was this his karma for not telling Mandy anything that had happened last year? Having her bring him to his fucking house? 

Mandy's voice softened and forced him to open his eyes. "I'm sorry Mick I didn't know. I wouldn't have invited him over if you'd just told me." 

"Yeah, well, kinda hard to pour your heart out surrounded by shitheads who'd cut your face off for even smiling." 

That was it, that was all Mickey said before deciding to shut down. He didn't want Mandy worrying about him and he sure as shit didn't wanna think about this right now. He'd mull it over later if he had time but right now he had shit to do, the main task at hand being helping Mandy sort through the boxes she'd brought from Indiana. 

God, when would Ian Gallagher give him a break?  
*  
*  
It was dinnertime when Ian tentatively opened the door of his house and peeped in to see who was home. Carl and Debbie were sitting on the living room couch arguing over how to do an algebra problem and both looked up when they heard the door open. 

"Ian! Where ya been?," Debbie asked with a bright face at seeing her brother for the first time today. 

"Went over to Mandy's, she just got home from Indiana so I was, uh, helping her unpack." 

Carl glanced up from his paper at the familiar name, "Mandy's home? She bring back another douche of a boyfriend?" 

Ian walked over and ruffled his hair. "Nah, she dropped that other one thank god. I think she wants to be single for awhile." 

Ian hesitated and peeked into the kitchen, "Lip home?" 

Carl rolled his eyes. "Yeah, upstairs. Fiona just picked up some pizza if you want any in the kitchen." 

Ian gave Debbie a quick rub on the shoulder before starting upstairs. 

When he got up there he found Lip sprawled across his old bed, papers strewn everywhere and a pen in one hand furiously jotting something down in a notebook. His laptop was open and Ian could hear sounds of what sounded like an instructional video on something. Ian quickly knocked on the door and Lip looked up, his hand pausing on the paper. 

"You're finally back," Lip exclaimed as he sat up and crumpled some of the papers underneath him. "Did ya have time to swing by Patsy's and pick up my pay from this week?" 

Ian shook his head and closed the door before beginning to pace the room. He'd kept it together on the way home and when he was talking to Debbie and Carl, but for some reason Lip always broke down those boundaries even without saying anything. 

Lip closed his notebook, "Fuck's up with you?" 

Ian covered his hands over his mouth and kept walking around the room trying to keep himself from hysterically laughing. This whole situation was too fucking much for him. First Mandy shows up out of nowhere and they get into a huge fight, and then Mickey suddenly smashes his way back into Ian's life by walking through that damn door like 'Hey, miss me?' What the fuck was going on? Two Milkoviches back in his life in one day left Ian feeling like he'd gotten punched in the stomach, deprived of all air. 

"Seriously Ian what's going on?" Lip was standing now with his arms crossed and a concerned look on his face. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, oh fucking god," Ian started breathing out in a laugh of disbelief. 

He hunched down and put his hands over his eyes. "Mickey and Mandy are back" Ian groaned out without looking up. 

"Huh? Back as in hypothetically back in your daydreams or back as in physically here?," Lip asked incredulously with a hint of sarcasm. 

Ian spread his fingers so he could see Lip through the cracks. "They're fucking back. Mandy got home from Indiana yesterday, Terry apparently croaked in jail. And...and Mickey..." 

Ian trailed off at the thought of Mickey walking through that door again. What was he thinking right now? Was his heart racing as much as Ian's? Was he mad? Was he crying into Mandy's arms? There was no way of knowing. 

Lip laughed, "No fuckin' way Mickey's outta jail. What'd he do sleep with the fuckin' guard?" 

Ian groaned again. "Didn't really get to asking him that, I was kinda too busy sprinting outta the house before either he or Mandy bashed my head into a wall." 

Lip sighed. "Jesus christ Ian what'd you do" he said as more of a statement than a question. 

"I...might've forgotten to tell Mandy me and Mick broke up and she might've almost brained me against the wall and Mickey might've walked in before she got the chance." 

"Hollllly shit. We just can't shake these people can we?," Lip said before sighing and walking over to Ian. 

Lip reached down to pat his shoulder. "Wise words from Kev. Whatever you do, don't bone him again yeah?" 

Ian looked up at his older brother and laughed, squeezing his eyes to keep the tears from coming out. "Don't worry I got it under control."  
*  
*  
Mickey was just finishing putting up the last boxes of dresses and heels in Mandy's room when his phone went off. He glanced at the screen and held it to his ear with a knowing smile. 

"Knew you'd call," he said in his best seductive voice. 

A familiar, muffled voice laughed on the other end of the line. "Yeah, yeah...so how about you pick me up?" 

Mickey fidgeted with the collar of the dress shirt he'd put on a few minutes before and glanced at his watch. "Yeah, gimme 15 minutes." 

He ended the call and let out a huffed breath. It was nice to hear his voice, to be honest Mickey hadn't thought he would ever hear from him again so it was reassuring to get that call. 

Mickey walked into the kitchen and found Mandy drilling away at the back wall, goggles on and a determined look on her face. 

"The fuck are you doing? Hey listen, can I borrow your jeep for tonight? I'm picking up...someone." 

The drilling sound shut off as she turned around trying to pat down her hair that got ruffled from the goggles. 

"Yeah sure, but I swear to god if I find one fuckin' scratch-," 

Mickey cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Yeah okay Kim Kardashian calm down. I'm a better driver than you anyways." 

Mickey laughed as Mandy turned the drill back on with a threatening raise of her eyebrows. 

"You wanna say that again to my drill?"

Mickey swiped the car keys off the dining room table and sauntered back into the bathroom to make sure he looked okay. Surprisingly he hadn't put on the normal hair gel he used to like back in the day and his hair was doing pretty good on its own. He checked to make sure his shirt was buttoned up and stepped into some clean black skinny jeans he'd found in the hamper. 

He was just walking out of the bathroom when Iggy glanced down the hallway. He whistled and giggled mischievously. 

"Well shit. Where the fuck are you goin'?" 

Mickey flipped him off with both fingers before turning around to leave, "None of your damn business. See ya." 

As he walked out of the door onto the porch something caught his eye near the edge of their lawn. A bright orange and navy jacket was crumpled near their mailbox looking like it'd been accidentally dropped there. 

Ian's jacket. 

Mickey couldn't help feeling a flutter in his chest when he went over to bend down and pick it up. Suddenly an idea came to him and his lips pursed together in thought. Should he? Ah, fuck it, Mickey thought as he looked down to a text on his phone. 

_"On your way?,"_ it read. 

Mickey jogged to the black jeep parked outside of the house and hopped in, throwing the jacket onto the passenger's seat beside him and starting the engine. He put the car in drive and drove speedily away to pick up his special companion for the evening.  
*  
*  
Ian sat at the kitchen table spinning the paper plate full of pizza around in front of him. The only thing he could think about was Mickey. The way his heart stopped when they came face to face and then started beating like crazy to make up for that lost time. The way all noise disappeared when he saw his face, beautiful and pale as always under the dark lighting of their house. 

His hair had looked lighter than usual. Ian couldn't remember, but he thought maybe the sun's lighting from outside had been shining in, casting a burst of light on Mickey's glittering black hair. 

Ian wanted to see him up close so badly he could feel a dull ache in his chest. It was such a weird feeling, he'd been relatively fine the past year. Fine as in able to function while keeping Mickey in the back of his brain, but all of the sudden it was like something clicked on inside of Ian again and his mind couldn't focus on anything anymore. 

All it took was seeing him in person for all the memories to come flooding back and opening that secret folder in Ian's mind that he'd always kept for Mickey. 

"Yo, wanna go by Patsy's with me and see Fiona? We can pick up Trevor on the way or something." 

Lip sucked Ian out of his thoughts as he walked by and took a piece of pizza out of the box on the table. 

Ian continued to stare at his plate, "Nah I'm not feeling too good. Probably gonna go to bed soon." 

Lip bit into his pizza and leaned against the counter. "Alright well, tell me if you wanna talk later and we can okay? I know that-," 

Lip ended his thought abruptly when there was a sharp rapping from the front door by the living room. He turned his head and leaned to the side. "Who's that?" 

Ian could hear Carl sigh as he slowly got up making sounds of complaining as he lumbered toward the door. 

There was no way he was gonna have an appetite today, so Ian picked up his plate and threw it in the trash. He walked over to the sink and started washing his hands when he heard the door open and muffled voices. 

Suddenly he heard a familiar laugh and his spine stiffened, the water running over his hands getting hotter by the second. 

Ian whipped around and sent a pleading look to Lip as if he was asking 'Please dear god let that not be who I think it is.' 

Lip returned his look with a wide-eyed stare, his mouth open in a shocked smile. 

"Looks like the club came early. Pun intended" Lip snickered before nodding his head for Ian to take a look on his own. 

Ian shut off the water and as he was rounding the corner of the kitchen he ran smack into what he thought was maybe a wall Fiona had built when he was gone today. But it wasn't a wall. 

It was a slim but muscular guy about Ian's height staring him directly in the face. Dark hair, dark eyes, Latin, and sexy as hell. He actually reminded Ian of a soccer player who he couldn't think of right now, but hell he'd watch soccer all day if that's how all the guys looked. 

The guy's mouth moved up in a side smile and he turned around, allowing Ian to see the rest of the room. 

"Found him" he said in a deep, purring voice as Ian's eyes rested on Mickey standing on the far side of the living room near the door. 

Ian inhaled sharply. 

Holy shit he looked good. It sent shivers down Ian's arms because of how fucking good he looked. 

Dressed in an expensive-looking dark sea blue button up shirt with black skinny jeans hugging his shapely legs and his fresh haircut looking as good as ever, Mickey Milkovich did it for Ian. 

He couldn't even remember what Lip had asked him a second ago, or where he'd been before seeing that boy. Because he's all that mattered ever. 

Not just in that moment, but in all the moments Ian could think of, Mickey was the only one who ever mattered to Ian. And here he was standing in his living room for god knows what reason, the exact opposite situation happening from earlier today. 

But then Ian remembered Lip's joke and that brought him back to the hot model guy standing a few feet from him holding Ian's jacket. What the fuck? 

"That's my jacket," Ian pointed out to the guy who'd now crossed his arms, showing off the slim athletic muscles rippling through him. 

Mickey laughed harshly behind him. "Always pointing out the hard-hitting facts Gallagher. You left it at my house when you ran out, thought me and Gabriel would drop by since we were in the neighborhood." 

Ian stared at Mickey smirking back at him. "Gabe...gabriel" he muttered before connecting the dots and realizing Mickey meant the guy standing in front of him. 

Gabriel held out the jacket but when Ian didn't make any effort to take it, he awkwardly shoved it into Ian's hand and started walking back toward the door.

Ian could see Carl watching this whole affair from the couch with a half-confused, half-approving look on his face. 

Gabriel turned his head, "Nice meeting you" he said with a slight accent that Ian had to admit just added to his sexiness. 

Mickey put his hand on Gabriel's back and purposefully glanced over at Ian again as they moved to leave, the same smirk still on his face. 

"Good thing I still remembered where your house was right? It's been awhile, coulda gotten lost man," he said before turning back around.

And with that Mickey was gone, leaving Ian speechless yet again for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how do ya'll like Gabriel hmmmm? If anyone wants to know I picture him kinda like Oscar Emboaba who, is indeed, a soccer player.


	4. Fairy Tale

It'd been a few days since Mickey's surprise homecoming that had left Ian unable to complete even the simplest of tasks. 

Lip was debating on the cheapest international shipping costs online, the package being his little brother and the destination being wherever was farthest from Chicago because Ian would not shut up for even a second about the Milkoviches. 

Lip had been at the sink shaving yesterday evening when Ian had wandered in and absentmindedly sat down on the edge of the bathtub. 

"Do you think I should swing by? I could put together like, a plate of food or something and drop it off for Mandy." 

Lip sighed and looked at his brother through the mirror, "And why exactly would you be doing that?" 

"Remember? Me and Mandy got into a fight, I needa make it up to her somehow."

"I'm pretty sure you should let her come to you when she's over it, Ian. Besides, you sure this isn't some secret plan so you can spy on Mickey jacking off that kid he came over with?" 

Ian made a sound like he was gonna puke and put his hand over his mouth dramatically.

"Jesus don't ever say that again! God, I should've asked Carl," Ian said before getting up and leaving the door open as he left. 

Lip shook his head and resumed shaving. 

Mickey had Ian wrapped around his pinkie finger. Could he even use the word "pinkie" to describe a thug's smallest finger? Seemed wrong.  
*  
This morning was no different, maybe even worse and more disturbingly dramatic to Lip. He'd come downstairs still half asleep to get breakfast when he noticed more smoke than usual rising from their toaster. The smoke alarm hadn't gone off because, well, apparently some genius had taken it out of the wall to sell for who knows what as Lip glanced over to an empty socket and some wires hanging from it. 

"The fuh..." Lip began as he hustled over to find a crispy black, ex-Strawberry Pop Tart smoking in the toaster. 

He looked into the living room to find Ian in deep thought sitting on the couch. Lip banged the burnt brick of a food against the wall to get Ian's attention. 

He looked up but didn't seem fazed at all, "Oh shit, forgot about that," he said as he got up and walked into the kitchen. 

Ian started talking, waving his hands around not even noticing the cloud of smoke suffocating the room. 

"I mean, why would he even bring Gabriel over? What's the point of that right? Actually, the better question is why'd he even come over? He could've just gotten Mandy to call and I coulda picked up the jacket on my way to work, why'd he feel the need to drive all the way over here? Who even is Gabriel? Just some friend Mick met in prison or something? Wasn't it kinda suspicious the way Gabriel was looking at him? I don't trust him, seems kinda arrogant if you ask me. I mean, 'Nice meeting you?' We didn't even meet he just gave me my jacket back!"

Ian kept aimlessly wondering out loud like this for another minute until Lip had had enough. 

"Jesus, Ian I get it okay? But we've already had this same conversation for like the past 4 days! I tried to give you my advice before but you keep saying the same shit, and I dunno if you noticed but you almost just set the house on fire! So could we like, tone it down a bit?" 

Ian stared at him for awhile before rubbing his eyes like he'd just come out of a trance. 

"Yeah, sorry," he said and eased into a kitchen chair. 

He was silent for awhile before speaking again, this time in a hushed whisper. 

"I just...I can't get him out of my head." 

Ian smiled softly, his eyes filled with sadness and subtle hope that reminded Lip of a younger redheaded boy who used to look at Monica that way. Lip lowered his voice into a reassuring tone. 

"Hey, it's okay...Seems like Mickey's moved on. Maybe you should too."  
*  
*  
"So you're really back huh?" 

Mickey was lounging on the living room couch watching Fight Club for the billionth time when Jaime sauntered in and sat in a ripped-up, leather chair across from him. 

"What, were you planning on renting out my room for the next 8 years? Sorry," Mickey said gazing at Brad Pitt on the screen. 

Jaime chuckled, "Nah man. I'm glad your ass is back. Didn't even deserve to get that sentencing anyways." 

"Yeah well," Mickey said through chugs of beer, "Tell that to the psycho cunt who got me locked up in the first place. Guess that's karma though cuz her white trash ass is still rotting in jail." 

Jaime leaned forward and grabbed a beer off the coffee table. "So I've heard. What even happened with that, how the fuck are you even out right now?" 

Mickey laughed and itched his nose, remembering being rudely woken up to the news in his prison cell. 

"Apparently they found out one of the guys on the jury during my trial had been banging Sammi without knowing it was her case and then was too scared to say anything later until he was drunk one night and started blabbing his mouth. Judge wanted to do a retrial for 'unfair conduct' but then looked back through the records and assumed it was a nonviolent offense. Plus no evidence." 

"Damn," Jaime proclaimed, shocked at the luck his brother had gotten. 

"Also helped the bitch chased me with a gun and almost shot my fucking head off. Made me seem like an angel or something I guess." 

Jaime clicked his tongue and shook his head, "Yeah some angel alright. You still drugged her and locked her in, what, a moving crate?" 

Mickey waved his hand, "Yeah okay, to be fair I didn't know she'd already taken some heavy shit. And yeah me and Debbie messed with her, she fucking sent Ian to army jail or whatever it's called! What goes around comes around man." 

Sitting back in his chair, Jaime crossed his arms and sighed. "Still not over him are you?" 

Mickey's eyebrows shot up and his eyes had to unfortunately leave Brad Pitt for a second. "Whatdya mean?" 

"Mickey, really? I know you went to his house that same day you got back."

"He left his jacket" Mickey mumbled, suddenly feeling like Brad's abs weren't worth Jaime's subtle interrogation. 

Jaime realized he wasn't gonna get anything out of his brother in the romance department and got up to leave, patting Mickey lightly on the shoulder as he left. 

"Yeah okay, whatever you say. Just don't do anything you'll regret yeah?," Jaime said over his shoulder.

Mickey rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the screen, there was something about this movie that made it so you could rewatch it and each time find something new or worth thinking about. Tyler Durden's voice rang out from the crap speakers next to the television. 

_'Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?'_   
*  
*  
Two days laters, Ian was just getting home from work when his cell started going off. 

"What's up?," he said holding the phone to his ear. 

It was Fiona, and she sounded pissed off and a little desperate. 

"Close the blinds and make sure both doors are locked. Don't answer if anyone knocks." 

And with that she clicked off, leaving Ian to wonder what was going on. 

He checked to make sure the front door was locked and proceeded to close the blinds of the front window in the living room. He started toward the kitchen when he heard a loud thump against the door by the kitchen table. 

Hustling faster now, he just had time to put his hand on the doorknob when it swung open and almost knocked him over. He dodged the swinging door and backed up, his eyes widening at what he saw. 

Monica stood beaming on the porch with her hands on her hips, a billowy purple winter coat wrapped around her, and a huge smile on her face. 

"Ian!," she yelled and barged through the door dragging a blue luggage bag with her. 

Now Ian knew why Fiona had been so short on the phone, she'd probably just found out that Monica was heading his way and didn't have much time for a warning. 

"Oh god, what're you doing here Monica..." he trailed off as she hoisted the luggage onto their kitchen counter and turned around to give him a hug. 

"I've missed you! You never call! You know you're my favorite son right?" Monica said hugging a reluctant Ian. 

He finally relented and wrapped his arms loosely around her. 

"Hey mom," he whispered and leaned his head into her shoulder. 

Monica, Monica, always appearing in and out of his life since he could remember. The last time she'd been here it had ended with a huge mistake on Ian's part. Running away with her and experiencing that unstable lifestyle, not knowing when or where your next meal would be, fucked him up badly. He was a wreck during that time, still figuring out how to deal with this new illness in his life and he thought maybe Monica could help him since she understood what he was going through. 

Boy was he wrong. Instead, during one of the lowest points in his life of not even recognizing himself, he'd let Monica get it in his head that no one could love him on his meds because people like Mickey were trying to change who he really was. Ian believed it at the time. But after getting back on his meds and slowly recovering, he'd realized it was actually the complete opposite. 

Mickey wanted Ian to be his true self, stable and healthy and happy. It was never about fixing Ian to Mickey, it was about saving him from going down the path Monica took. Ian had a lot of paths he'd taken during his life, but only one had led someplace unexpected and beautiful. 

He found that path in Mickey, the only comforting and familiar footprint for him to trace and walk in when he felt himself slipping.  
*  
It was well past dinnertime when Monica got there and Ian had no idea when the rest of his family would be home to deal with the situation. "Deal" most likely meaning threatening Monica with a frying pan until she got the hint and hightailed it out of their house. 

They were sat down at the kitchen table, Ian had microwaved some leftover pasta for her but it remained untouched on the table as Monica babbled on and on leaving no room for eating. 

"So yeah I'm about to go to Greenland with this fucking tweaker I met because he promised me he had millions in stocks there and then I go to his house all packed up and he's gone! Can you believe that fucker? Bought me a ring and everything. Joke's on him I kept the ring!" 

Monica spread her fingers across the table, one of them decorated with a small, silver ring. It was pretty simple, embedded with nothing but a dark etched design of a tree winding its way around the entire finger. 

"I like the design," Ian admitted with a reassuring look. 

Monica smiled and traced her finger along the etched pattern. "I know, pretty cool right? You know that trees symbolize shelter and longevity? It's like a forever promise, cuz trees last a damn long time." 

Right at that moment Ian's phone rang and he looked at the caller I.D., Mandy. He got up and slid the screen to answer. 

"Hey" Ian said timidly. 

"Hey, look I'm sorry for freaking out on you. It's not your fault Mick didn't tell me so it's not really fair to be mad at you. I'm past it okay? Wanna come over?" 

Ian let out the breath he'd been holding in as he was unsure whether he was about to be bitched at again, this time without the physical threat. 

"Yeah, yeah. It's okay I get it. I'll be over in 10." 

Ian ended the call and turned back to Monica who was now drawing something with her finger through the air. 

"Hey mom I'm going over to Mandy's. You can stay 'til I get back but no promises Fiona or Lip won't get home before me and have a conniption fit." 

"Mandy's? Isn't that Mickey's sister? How's that boyfriend of yours doing?," Monica asked in a weirdly childlike voice with her cheeks resting in her palms. 

Ian really didn't feel like getting into this conversation because she clearly didn't remember anything about when he ran away with her. 

"He's uh...he's good mom. He's really good. I'll see ya okay?" 

Apparently Mandy had ordered him an Uber because there was a black BMW parked outside his house with a young woman sitting in the front seat. Ian fished for cash in his wallet and handed her some, then hopped in and shut the door as they sped away.  
*  
When they pulled up in front of the house Ian's legs started shaking slightly from apprehension. What if Mickey was there, sitting on the couch or something when he walked in? Or worse, what if Gabriel was there with him? Just the thought of his smug, perfect smile and his stunning black hair and jawline made Ian want to ask the driver if she could go a few more blocks. 

But he didn't. He stepped out of the car and approached the porch, not even bothering to knock on the door before walking in. 

The living room was empty, that was a good sign. Maybe no one was home but Mandy. Ian didn't know what was wrong him, he wanted to see Mickey with every ounce of his being but at the same time he would probably contemplate throwing himself out of their window if Mickey appeared. Especially if he was with Gabriel. 

"Mandy?" Ian called out to the empty room. 

"Yeah be there in one second!" he heard her yell back from down the hallway. 

Ian collapsed on their couch to wait for Mandy, tired from a long day of work and the ever-expanding problems that came with Monica being back. He loved his mom, there was no doubt about it, it was just hard for him to interact with her honestly. It made him feel tired, and a bit scared that he'd end up like her. Not to mention the absolute chaos that erupted especially for Fiona and Lip when she crashed back into their lives ever so often. 

She needed help, but she wasn't willing, and that broke Ian's heart a bit because he couldn't force her to do anything if she disappeared on them for years after only a few days of being back. 

"Hey actually can you come back here Ian?," Mandy's voice called from down the hall. 

Ian stood up to go when he noticed a phone light up on the coffee table. He couldn't help but lean over and, careful to avoid the tempting AMT Hardballer laying next to it, pick up the iPhone lit up with a text. 

_"10:30 fairytale?"_ it read. 

"Hey whatcha doing? I told you to come back here," Ian whipped his head up to Mandy standing in the dining room with a pale pink artist's smock on and a paint brush in hand. 

"Oh, you got a text it just lit up." 

Mandy walked over and squinted at the phone, "Oh that's Mickey's. Got it as a welcome home gift since I found his old one cracked to bits under his bed. Might wanna put it down and come with me before he comes out though. Don't want a...repeat of last time."

Ian set down the phone and followed Mandy, cursing the fact that he'd just had time to see the text and didn't remember the name above it. Mandy led him down the hallway to a door with a familiar cardboard sign on it. 

'Stay the fuck out' it read in scrawled sharpie handwriting. 

Ian had always felt special going into that room when he was younger because although that sign warded most people off, he knew he was always welcome in there. When he'd first started having sex with Mickey it was only a distant nod or a sharp comment signaling for Ian to shut up and get on with it. But even then, Ian knew it was something special. 

Mickey didn't just let people in like that, and as Ian started to get to know him better and break down the glass wall between them, he couldn't help but smile when he walked into that room. It reminded him of what they were, what they came from and what they endured to get there.

Even now walking in Ian had a trace of a smile on his face. The room still resembled what it used to be, but most of the crude posters had been taken down and been replaced with framed writing that was too small for Ian to see. Mickey's bed was still there, the nightstand filled with empty bottles of beer and bags of chips, and the room smelled of paint.

Mandy turned to look at him. "Don't worry he's not coming in here, I think he's in the backyard right now. Told him he couldn't come in yet. It's a surprise, I'm trying to spruce the place up, new paint job and shit. You like the color?"

Only the wall with the window was done at the moment, painted the color of Morning Glories but a more dull tint to the blue. 

"Looks good" Ian exclaimed and turned to glance at Mandy. 

She smiled and held up her finger, "I'll be right back." 

Ian started meandering around the room and picking up random items strewn on the floor, finally heading over to the mahogany dresser across from the wall with the bed. He was perusing the dresser when he came across a green satin journal bursting with papers that had nearly fallen behind the piece of furniture. 

It wasn't visible to anyone's eye unless you were as tall as Ian and leaned far over the top of the counter. He picked it up and started flipping through it making sure that the papers stayed inside. Most of it was illegible scrawled handwriting that resembled how the sign on the door was written. Ian occasionally recognized a few words and it seemed like the pages were filled with...poetry? He couldn't really tell because the stanzas would start and stop intermittently, unfinished thoughts jotted down with certain words circled and question marks written. 

Up to that point there wasn't anything too interesting until Ian came to the end of the journal and a picture slipped out and softly landed on the dresser's top. 

He picked it up and stared at it, not realizing until a moment later the picture was shaking in his hand. 

Ian exhaled a shaky breath and let the tears come flowing down his cheeks. It was an involuntary reflex, his eyes welled up as if they were their own being and he could feel the salty wetness roll down his skin. 

It was a picture of himself lying in what he guessed was the bed behind him, asleep on his stomach with his right cheek facing down resting in the pillow. His head was turned so that you could see the left profile of his face and a pale yellow blanket was thrown across him. He was in the picture too. Mickey. Taking the picture. 

You could see his face and the left side of his exposed chest. He was leaning down with his left arm propped next to Ian and his face gave away a small smile. The one Mickey got when he thought no one was looking, but that Ian sometimes was lucky enough to catch. His skin close to his temples was crinkled slightly, jet black hair ruffled from the cocoon of sleep. 

And his eyes. Ian lingered on his pale blue eyes lighting up his pearly face with an innocent, child-like joy. 

He couldn't believe Mickey had actually taken that picture, a gem hidden in this journal he'd kept from everyone. 

Suddenly Ian felt like he was witnessing something he shouldn't. As if the picture was an intimate moment that only Mickey's eyes should fall on. 

So Ian gently placed the photograph back in the binding and placed the journal in its hidden home behind the dresser. He felt a tug in his gut and he knew he had to go. He had to go to wherever Mickey was, had to find him. 

The time on his phone said 10:10 and Ian decided it was time to leave, even though he had just gotten there. The text on Mickey's phone said 10:30 and it was about a 10 minute drive to Fairy Tale from what Ian could remember during his days as a stripper. 

Mandy returned with a huge box in her hands to see Ian shifting on his heels and discreetly, he hoped, wiping away tears. 

"Mandy, I really gotta go. Family emergency. Monica's home." 

Mandy opened her mouth in surprise, "Oh shit, wow that sucks I wanted to go through these old vinyls, see if you wanted any. But yeah I totally understand. God, get home before Fiona murders her or something! I'll call an Uber right now." 

"Thanks, tomorrow though really, I'll be here okay?"

Ian waited in the living room for a few minutes until the Uber got there, noticing the iPhone was gone from the table meaning Mickey had already left for the club. 

He bounced on his feet before seeing headlights stream into the window and hurried out to get in. 

"Fairy Tale" he said and took one more glance back at the house before its lights winked out when they turned the corner.


	5. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashing lights. Bodies moving. The smell of sweat, and something else. Alcohol. Glasses shattering. Streams of people flooding the dance floor. A dark room behind the noise. Voices yelling. Blaring music that shakes the ground. A humming in the air, about to happen. Will happen. Something will happen here. Always does. This environment sets you free, but then you're sucked in. There's not an escape plan. Enjoy it, endure it. No difference. Don't look to move, let it move you. Close your eyes. Now it's gone. See? That wasn't so hard.

*  
Parking in front of the club was a mess. Older men with salt and pepper hair were valeting their cars to get in before the bursting line out front got any more packed. Mickey wasn't going to try his luck convincing any of them to take a 20 dollar bill and move somewhere else, they had enough money as it was anyways. 

Instead, he drove a few more blocks before finding an old abandoned furniture factory and shutting off the jeep in the gravel beside of it. He hopped out and checked his phone.

10:40, damn he was late.

He hustled the few blocks back to the looming building, huddling into his long black jacket. It had begun to snow. Flurries whipped through the air and landed on him but quickly melted away under his warmth. He brushed past the long line of men that extended into the street waiting to get in and headed straight for the bouncer. 

The bouncer was massive, his bulging arms crossed over each other threatening anyone who got the idea of trying to sneak past him. 

Mickey nodded and moved to walk by him when the man suddenly took a sidestep and blocked the entrance. 

"Think you got in the line backwards, buddy. Starts back there," the man said and pointed to a spot a few yards away down the sidewalk. 

Mickey bit his lip impatiently and held up his I.D. "I'm with Gabriel." 

As soon as he uttered those words the bouncer's face slackened in recognition of the name and quickly moved out of his way, dipping his head in submission. 

"Sorry" he muttered and Mickey quickly waltzed past him and opened the door.

Immediately the smell of cheap alcohol and rich cologne wafted into his nose. Flashing red, purple, blue, and white iridescent lights blinded his eyes from all angles and the music filled his ears with a thunderous crack. The sensation of being in a dream. 

Mickey had been here several times in the past. He looked at the stage and remembered. Remembered Ian, the ghost of him moving and flowing up there with Mickey always lurking nearby in the dark waiting for someone who dared to touch the boy. How could he forget? Ian was an angel up there when he danced. Sometimes Mickey hadn't even thought he was real, like he'd imagined this miracle in his life and would soon wake up to an empty pillow and the culprit of too many beers beside him. 

The main dance floor of the club was spread out before him with pedestals and expensive leather couches scattered across it. On the pedestals and main stage, lean and muscular men swayed their hips and arms provocatively. 

Hoards of people crowded the stage watching in awe as the dancers neared and allowed them to slip bills of money into their waistband. The actual club was much larger than this dance floor area though. Mickey knew from experience there were curtains that sectioned off special rooms for VIP guests who paid big bucks for the Fairy Tale's top dancers. 

As if on cue, he felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around ready to suckerpunch whatever piece of wrinkly garbage was trying to hit on him. Instead he found Gabriel towering over him in a sparkly white tie and matching skintight shorts. Man he looked good, Mickey thought to himself. His skin was glistening with sweat and the light colors of his outfit made his jet black hair stand out, beckoning for someone to reach up and feel it. 

His eyes fell to the man's crotch area where he could see a definite bulge outlined through the material. He was no Ian, but he'd do. Mickey needed a distraction and he was lucky that Gabriel's sentence had ended shortly before his and not after or he knew he'd already be running back to Ian. Something he really did not want to give in to at the moment. 

Gabriel grinned and crossed his arms, "Glad you came." 

Mickey sucked on his bottom lip and raised his eyebrow. "Haven't yet. Might soon though if you get up there and do a little dance for me." 

Gabriel shook his head smiling and nodded toward the bar, "Drinks are on me. What fun is it to be sober in here? C'mon, then I might show you some moves viejo." 

"Vieh...what?" Mickey asked as Gabriel took his hand and led him through the crowd of bodies pressed together over to the bar. It was gonna be a good night.  
*  
*  
Ian checked his phone in frustration. It was 11:30, over an hour had passed since he'd left the Milkoviches. Apparently there was some festivity going on downtown and traffic was backed up for miles because police had blocked off the main roads. They'd been at a stand still for the past 20 minutes and Ian wasn't sure they were ever going to get off this road. 

He was about to ask the driver to pull off and turn around when the car jolted forward and they started moving again. He squinted out of the window and noticed that one of the police officers had begun to direct traffic, moving the cars along quickly and waving his hand in apology. 

"Thank god" Ian whispered to himself. The driver glanced back through the mirror. 

"Shit happens all the time on these roads. You supposed to be meeting someone?" 

Ian frowned. "Uh...maybe, not sure. We'll see I guess." 

That was the only conversation the driver and him had until they pulled up to the club and Ian told him he could just stop and let him hop out real quick. 

The driver winked at him knowingly, "Good luck." 

"Oh...thanks?," Ian scratched his head awkwardly and waited for the man to drive away. Maybe he should stick to riding the L, Ian thought, Uber drivers seemed kind of creepy. 

He looked down to make sure he looked okay. He smoothed out the light green long sleeve he had thrown on before heading to Mandy's and dusted off the snow from his dark blue jeans. Alright, well, here goes nothing. At this point the line had thinned out and there were only a few people Ian had to wait behind before opening the familiar handle of his old workplace and walking into the streaming lights.  
*  
*  
Mickey was drunk. Not incapable of moving or talking drunk, but drunk enough. He'd thrown back more than a couple unknown drinks at the bar over the past hour with the help of Gabriel who poured shot after shot. His head was buzzing and he couldn't tell if the beating in his ears was from the music blasting through the room or his own heartbeat racing. 

He looked across the room at the stage and saw it occupied by Gabriel who was thrusting his hips at the crowd in front of him. There were younger, good-looking men who pumped their fists in the air and stared in awe at Gabriel's exceptional body. There was also a fair amount of old geezers who watched more timidly, waiting to casually throw a $100 bill his way and get a VIP tour of it. Gabriel usually didn't go for that, at least from what Mickey could tell. 

Their relationship was pretty casual. Hooking up occasionally when Mickey needed that release. Gabriel was hot, there was no doubt about that, but in the end Mickey knew it wasn't enough.

Would never be enough to erase the constant thoughts he had about Ian.

But he was doing his best trying to keep his distance, as hard as it was, to prevent his heart from getting shattered again. What had Iggy said a few days ago? "Ian would kiss you and kill you in a single breath." Mickey wasn't sure how much he believed that, but he knew the best thing for right now was to fight the urges he had to call Ian, hear his voice, touch him. 

God, it'd been so long since Mickey had gotten to feel him that he wasn't even sure what it would be like now. Now wasn't the time to. 

Shut it down. Walk over to Gabriel. Smile. Watch. Have fun. That's what he was going to do right now.

He'd been watching Gabriel lead several lucky guests onstage, dancing around them to the beat of the music when suddenly Mickey felt the urge to turn around. He had no idea what it was, but something made him turn his eyes from the stage to the front door a few yards behind him to the left. Mickey registered a tall shadow on the far wall and watched as a man stepped out from the shadows into the crowd sporting a long sleeve green shirt and fiery red hair that caught the flashing lights of the club. 

Ian.

Mickey chuckled in disbelief. Was this happening? Like actually happening? Or was it the alcohol making him see something that wasn't there? An apparition of a life, a desire he could never escape. Either way, he wasn't going to let this ruin his night. 

Ian Gallagher wanted a show? Oh, Mickey would give him a show.  
*  
*  
Ian squinted and immediately raised his hand to cover his eyes from the light. Apparently they had added more since when he'd worked there because they were messing with his vision. He would see the bar light up for one second and then it would vanish into complete darkness, leaving another part of the club lit up in its place. 

The building was packed. He could hear dozens of conversations going on at once as people had to yell over each other and the thundering music shaking the room. He made his way over to the bar and sat down debating on how he was planning on finding Mickey in the zoo of people all packed together. 

Suddenly Ian felt overwhelmed. He hadn't been in this type of environment in awhile and felt out of place, like he couldn't breathe. Plugging his ears to drown out the noise he tried to calm his breathing down. 

In, out. In, out. Good. Slow down. Think. Suddenly he felt a presence next to him. Too close. 

He looked over to find a man who looked in his late 20s, maybe early 30s with a shaved head and tattoos covering his neck. He was wearing a dark Desmond Merrion suit with a sparkling watch that together probably cost more than all the houses in the Southside combined. 

He flashed a smile and leaned closer, "Can I buy you a drink?" 

"No thanks," Ian said gruffly, "I don't drink. I'm looking for someone." 

The man shrugged. "Plenty of people looking for someone in here. Just reach out a hand and there ya go, there's your someone." 

Ian rolled his eyes, "His name's Mickey." 

"Mickey...ah, that's Gabe's new boy toy. Mentioned him before, if ya couldn't tell I kinda own this place. Might wanna check over there." The man clicked his tongue and nodded toward the stage that Ian could only see the backside of.

Ian quickly thanked him and dove back into the crowd, his face on fire. Boy toy? So that's what was happening here? Mickey and Gabriel were hooking up or something? Ian had that suspicion right when he'd seen him, no one wouldn't find that boy attractive. But to have it confirmed was another thing. 

Ian could feel his face heating up just at the thought of Mickey looking at someone else, touching someone else that way. He felt a dull ache in his jawline as he got closer to the stage. He hadn't even realized he was clenching his jaw that hard. No one got to fucking look at Mickey, no way in fucking hell. Ian remembered the smug grin on Gabriel's face at his house and he felt like pounding his fists into the ground until the floor caved in. 

Ian's chest was rising and falling hard as he rounded the corner of the stage and glanced up to see what everyone was cheering at around him. It was a good thing Ian hadn't been carrying a glass or he would've dropped and shattered it on the spot. Not like it would've made a difference because Ian suddenly wasn't aware of anything but the stage. 

Men behind him moved and pushed into him roughly, trying to get around the immobile obstacle in their way. Ian wasn't registering what he saw, it felt like he'd entered a different world where the stage was. Nothing in front of him made sense. 

Gabriel onstage. White tie flashing. Sweat dripping. Swirling around the stage. Arms reaching for him. Arms wrapping around him. Arms wrapping around. Around. Mickey? Mickey.

Ian blinked and stood in the pool of expiring men around him. Unseen, but seeing. Seeing Mickey up on stage. It made absolutely no sense to him. 

Since when did he ever do shit like that? In front of people? 

Ian watched as Mickey moved to the beat of the music and swayed his hips toward Gabriel, laughing. Gabriel twirled to get behind him and slid his hands on either side of Mickey's shoulders slowly down his chest. Mickey reached up to grab the boy's forearms at chest level and they ground against each other, legs bending slightly and hips moving in a circle together. 

That's when they made eye contact. Ian's blood ran cold and he felt prickles begin to lace down his spine. Mickey winked and deliberately started moving down Gabriel's body, still facing the crowd. 

He flipped the position of his arms so they were wrapping around Gabriel's back now and slid down Gabriel's abs and crotch area until his legs were bent more, still swaying with the other boy. The crowd started cheering louder when Gabriel adeptly detached Mickey's hands from around him so that Mickey hit the ground, already a few inches away from it, and landed on his back. 

Gabriel followed him down and alternated grinding his cock against him and then arching his body back up with his forearms planted on either side of Mickey's head.

Ian stood there completely at a loss for words. It was like one of those embarrassing moments at school when you do something so utterly stupid in front of your crush that you detach yourself from the situation and sit there thinking it didn't happen. Or at least hoping. 

That was Ian right now, hoping he'd fallen asleep at Mandy's and was somehow dreaming this situation up. 

Gabriel continued to grind down into Mickey, his face inches from Mickey's lips until he eventually started tiring and got up. He pulled Mickey up with him by the arm and threw an arm around his shoulder. Ian saw them exchange laughs as the crowd went wild for the star dancer and his volunteer. They both took bows and then Gabriel hopped off the stage and disappeared into the dark. Hopefully for good Ian couldn't help but think. 

Ian expected Mickey to exit the stage as well, but he stayed up there and bent down to collect the piles of bills people had thrown on stage during their performance. Well, if Ian was gonna do something stupid that he'd regret later this was his chance. Too bad he couldn't have a few drinks first so he wouldn't remember this in the morning. He skirted by the massive hoard of people still in front of the stage who seemed to be bouncing to the memorizing beat of the song and stomped up the small flight of stairs leading up to the raised platform.

Ian put his hands together and started clapping mockingly as he neared Mickey who was still bent down. 

"Great job. Great job. Honestly I'm surprised you don't work here by now, really got those moves down!" 

Mickey slowly stood up holding a handful of cash and stared at him. He looked unimpressed. "Learned from the best" he spit out. 

Ian laughed harshly. "Oh no, I never got that good. You should teach me sometime. Maybe a group lesson, with Gabriel?" 

Ian didn't know what the fuck he was doing. He couldn't control his arms that were flexing and unflexing, his hands shaking. He could feel hives starting to form on them. Something he only got when he was extremely upset and overwhelmed. 

Ian walked toward him and grabbed the collar of his white dress shirt, getting dangerously close to Mickey's face. It hit him that his wish had come true, he was seeing Mickey up close. Eyes the color of a dress Fiona used to wear in the summer. She called it her "happy and wanting everyone to goddam know she was happy" dress.

Clear, transparent, shining, every emotion displayed, no hope of hiding them. Two splotches of paint running down a canvas. A glance into a river. Something moving under it. Under them. A flickering of something there.

Mickey didn't try to escape. His teeth moved to meet his bottom lip. Ian knew what was next, he had Mickey memorized. From the curves of his body to his facial expressions. Mickey raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. 

"Gotta pay big bucks to get a lesson from Gabriel, Gallagher. You sure you have the cash for that?" 

Ian was close enough to touch his nose to Mickey's, to lean in and smell the cigarette smoke on him. To smell the alcohol on his breath. They stared at each other, both of Ian's hands tightening on Mickey's collar.

Suddenly Mickey jerked free and tried to turn around. Ian stepped forward and caught him around the waist, pulling him back so that the back of Mickey's head slammed into Ian's collarbone. Ian wrapped his hands farther down the front of Mickey so that he was gripping his cock with one hand while the other clenched on his right hipbone. Mickey shuddered involuntarily under his touch and Ian could feel him breathing hard against his chest. 

Unable to move. Caught off guard by this. Unsteady.

"Got a job now. I think I can pay for a few lessons. Dunno if Gabriel's really needed for 'em though," Ian purred into the top of Mickey's hair. 

Suddenly the weight in front of him was ripped away and he stumbled back to see Gabriel roughly grabbing and shoving Mickey to the side of him. 

"There a problem here? I don't really like my boy being handled like that." 

Ian recovered and wiped the shock off his face to fire back. "Your boy huh? What, you meet him like, two months ago? He your little prison boyfriend?" 

Gabriel flashed that stunning grin of his and chuckled lightly. "We've had some real good times man. Somethin' about fucking behind bars. Gives you a sort of freedom you know?" 

Ian snorted and stepped forward slightly. "Yeah, real free. I mean why even stay outta prison, right? You don't gotta worry about actually, I dunno, working your ass off and you can still fuck in there! Meet the love of your life even!"

Ian's fists clenched. Ready. Waiting.

Mickey was standing off to the side unsure of what to do. They were getting alarmingly close to each other, but Mickey wasn't about to try to separate two giant men towering over him just to get crushed in the middle. 

"That what your skank sister tell you when you visit her dirty coked out ass every Sun-" 

Ian didn't let Gabriel finish his sentence before he closed the gap between them and socked him across the nose as hard as he could. Gabriel's head whipped to the left as he stumbled backwards.

CRACK!

Ian could hear some people in the throng gasp. He was surprised they could hear anything over the multitude of sounds pulsating through the club. A trickle of blood ran down the man's tanned skin. It mingled with the glittering white of his outfit, staining him a rose-colored tint. He deliberately wiped the blood gushing from his nose, smearing it across his cheek. 

"Te voy a matar you stupid fucking puto" Gabriel hissed out before lunging at Ian. 

His hands connected with Ian's chest with a force that sent Ian sprawling backwards on the stage gasping for breath. He coughed weakly as Gabriel pinned him down and punched him square in the mouth. 

Then the nose, the cheek, the eye, the nose again. Blow after blow raining down on Ian. 

Darkness. Blind.

Can't see. Gasping.

Coughing. Gagging.

Gasping. Beating.

Blood.

Passing out. Beating.

Blood. Fuzzy.

Ringing in his ear. Wetness.

Gurgling. Gushing.

Blood running down his face in torrents. Ian weakly reached up his hands in an effort to wrap them around Gabriel's neck but he couldn't. This boy had obviously been trained to fight. With Ian there was never any training, just what he'd learned growing up from Lip. Nothing compared to the skill of Gabriel's mechanical arms laying into him. The weight of his muscular body not allowing Ian to even shift his legs.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Less punching. A struggle. Less pressure on his face. Then suddenly nothing.

Nothing.

A sensation of something being lifted off of him. And quickly. Ripping away his aggressor. Ian couldn't see even if he wanted to. His eyes were already swelling shut, but there was no pain. None at all. Not even when he felt himself being lifted up. 

He couldn't hear the music. He felt the rhythm of it creeping through his body though. His body. Pulses in his lungs. He couldn't feel it. Nothing but the vibrations jarring his bones and. Something else. A voice. 

"Ian, Ian, Ian" it called out to him through the haze. 

He tried to respond but no words came out. His mouth was sealed off with blood and swelling. I'm right here, he wanted to say, what is it? Tell me.

"God Ian. God. God fucking dammit. Goddamit, why'd you come here. Why'd you have to come here. Ian. Ian? Hold on. Hold on to me. Don't let go. Hold on. I've got you. Goddamit you're fucking heavy. Don't move. Fucking Christ Ian, your face. Shouldn't have come here. Shouldnt've. Fucking 'course you did. Ian c'mon hang in there. Almost there. Hold on to me. You're fucking scaring me. I've got you. Ian."

The voice carried him, kept him awake, kept him from passing out. He listened to it until he felt himself being lowered. An engine. An engine starting. Bumpiness under him. Lots of bumps. Jolting his body. No pain. Darkness, dripping numbness. 

"Ian? Ian just listen to my voice okay? Gonna be alright. Gonna take care of you. I've got you remember? You remember that? You remember?" 

Ian forgot what it was to remember. Couldn't think of anything. Couldn't imagine anything other than this darkness. Just a set of eyes in front of him, glazed with ice. The color of a flower. The color in a photo he'd seen. He couldn't remember the flower. Couldn't visualize the photo. 

"I remember" he managed to croak out to himself, willing it to come true. Unsure if the words even escaped his throat.


	6. News

Mandy was slouched on the living room couch watching the season premiere of Project Runway. She had determined that Tim Gunn was indeed Jesus reincarnated and she absolutely had to meet him somehow to jumpstart her fashion career. A few minutes ago she was fine with walking to the salon a few blocks away and getting shown the ropes of cutting, dying, and styling hair all day. 

But now, watching Erin sketch out an a-line skirt made out of banana patterns and Dexter not-so-subtly judge Cornelius's choice of print, she suddenly had the urge to scrap hairdressing and start designing clothes. 

She made a mental note to email her friend back in Indiana later who had connections with some pretty serious designers in New York. Who knows, maybe they could give her advice on where to start and how to get into the industry. It was worth a shot. 

Mandy was just popping open a bag of barbecue chips when there was a sharp thumping on the door. It sounded like someone was trying to kick the door in. She sighed getting up and shivered as she walked over to it. Chicago winters, fuck it was cold. 

She opened the door to find Mickey rearing his foot back to kick it again with a passed out, limp Ian in his arms. Ian's head was curled up against Mickey's neck and an arm was thrown around his shoulder, the other dangling lifelessly in the air. 

Mickey gave her no time to reply, barging in and quickly slamming the door with one foot. 

"What the FUCK?" Mandy half-yelled as she followed him to the couch where he slowly layed Ian down in her previous spot. 

Mickey didn't seem to hear her. He quickly hustled over to the kitchen and started rummaging in the fridge. He came back with an armful of ice packs and some paper towels to wrap them in. 

"Start throwin' 'em on him, I'll be back" Mickey ushered out before disappearing down the hallway. 

Mandy swept the hair out of her face and began tenderly placing the ice on what looked like the worst parts of Ian's face and neck. His eyes were puffy and shut with rings of dark purple and searing red around them. His nose was pretty messed up too. It didn't seem to be broken from what she could tell, but dried blood was smeared across the top and was still gushing from his nostrils. 

Scratch that, it might've been broken. Now that Mandy was looking closer Ian's nose looked a bit bigger than normal from all the swelling. She secured the ice packs gingerly on his face and looked below his chin. Purpling angry marks ringed his neck and fingerprints were imprinted symmetrically on the sides of his throat. Someone had choked him. 

Mandy couldn't take it and screamed through the hand covering her mouth. "MICKEY! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!"

He reappeared shortly after carrying a stack of ragged blankets and pillows and set them down on the coffee table before turning to face the window, not looking at the two on the couch. Mickey ran a hand over his face and swore. He leaned against the windowsill closing his eyes. 

What the fuck just happened? It felt like when you were waking out of a dream but weren't fully aware of your surroundings yet, foggy and confusing and distant from reality. 

Mandy's voice sounded from behind him in a softer tone than before. "Mickey, what happened? We gotta take him to a hospital." 

He pressed his fingers into his forehead trying to get rid of the splitting headache that had been building on the ride home and turned around to face this nightmare. 

"Can't. All the roads are blocked off cuz of the stupid party going on, plus the ice. Barely got home as it was without sliding off the roads. No way we can go back out there without getting in a wreck." 

Mandy worriedly glanced back at Ian, "Okay but...you still haven't told me what happened." 

"Gabriel's what happened. He beat the shit outta him." 

Mickey winced at the image of Gabriel lunging at Ian, slamming him down and beating him unconscious. Wrapping his hands around Ian's neck and squeezing. He had tried to tear the raging man off of Ian sooner but Gabriel easily had 80 pounds and 6 inches on Mickey. 

"What the...wait Ian was at the club with you? He said he had to go home! And what the hell did he do to get Gabriel-"

Mickey cut his sister off with a frustrated sound. "I don't know Mandy, I fucking don't. I was just there having some drinks and next thing I know Superman here thinks he can take on a fucking trained ass boxer!" 

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Yeah well, bet he didn't know that when he threw the first punch. Jesus...he looks fucking terrible! You know how to tell if a nose is broken?" 

Mickey walked over and slowly sat down beside Ian so that he was leaning over his face. 

Bruised. Swollen. Purple. Red. Asleep. Breathtaking. God.

He reached out a hand and ran his fingers carefully along the bridge of Ian's nose checking for any crookedness he could see. 

"Hard to tell. It's not flattened or moved to one side so I don't think so. Real fuckin' swollen though. He'll probably have to just pick up some over the counter shit. Noses heal pretty fast anyway as long as it's not too messed up." 

Mandy got up to go to the kitchen. "Jesus, Ian. Won't let it go." 

"Won't let what go?," Mickey asked. 

Mandy turned around and nodded toward him.

"You. Won't let you go."  
*  
*  
After about an hour more of sitting next to Ian watching Project Runway, Mandy noticed her head nodding off and yawned. Mickey noticed too and leaned back against the couch, lighting up a cigarette. 

"Look tired. Go to bed, I got it. He'll probably just sleep until the morning anyways." 

Mandy hesitated, but then stood up and ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, come get me if he wakes up." 

Mickey nodded and watched her turn the corner down the hallway. He looked back down at Ian sprawled out to the right of him, his chest rising and falling lightly. He wondered what Ian was thinking coming to the club. 

Had he even come for Mickey? Or was that a strange coincidence that Ian happened to see him on stage? How would he have even known Mickey was going to be there? 

Mickey sighed and slid his hands under Ian's hair so that he was cupping his head. He gently raised it and scooted over, letting Ian's head rest back down onto his lap. He traced Ian's face with his index finger. The blood stood out as a sharp contrast to his fair skin. Looked wrong. He shouldn't have blood on his face. Especially because of Mickey. Wasn't made to have blood on his face. 

Ian's eyes fluttered when Mickey's fingers glided over his light eyelashes. He traced them down Ian's jawline and let them rest on the burning marks on his neck. The black ink of his knuckles lined up with the ghosted fingerprints and rested there. He sighed.

*

He'd been focusing on the TV screen for awhile, unconsciously stroking Ian's bruised cheek with one hand and smoking with the other when he glanced back down. 

Ian's eyes were open. As much as they could be open with the swelling still pretty severe around them. He was looking up at Mickey with a steady stare and blinking. 

Mickey's hand froze and he was about to try to get up when Ian's hand found his, still resting on his cheek. Ian's thumb skimmed over Mickey's hand as they looked at each other. 

"Thought you were dead for a second," Mickey huffed out, "woulda been a hell of a bill for the club." 

Ian made a coughing sound that Mickey could only guess was a laugh. "Mighta made some news though. Redhead twink found beaten to death by sexy Fairy Tale stripper," Ian croaked out. 

Mickey chuckled, "Now that's a headline." 

Their laughter died down and they stared at each other. Mickey didn't know what to say. There were so many questions in his mind, he wanted to ask if Ian was trying to find him, had he been thinking about him as much as Mickey had been? Did he feel the same shuddering deep down when they touched? When Ian wrapped around him? Had he felt anything? The other part of Mickey knew he couldn't ask those things. Couldn't open up that part of him again just yet. 

Besides, Ian probably went to the Fairy Tale a lot. He'd probably just happened to see Mickey up there. Then again, the fact that Ian got that mad about Gabriel dancing with him...Maybe there was something there still. 

They'd been laying there for a few minutes, Mickey changing the channel repeatedly still resting his thumb on Ian's cheek. Unsure whether he should've moved it by now or not. Should he? Too late now. 

He felt Ian's body shift on his lap slightly.

"I know about the picture" he whispered into Mickey's stomach. 

It took a few seconds to register what he was talking about. But then he remembered. The journal in his room. Hidden behind the dresser. If you flipped long enough you came to the image Mickey looked at when he was trying to write. What was he supposed to say to that?

Oh yeah, you found the one thing that helped me clear my head? The one thing that I don't wanna talk about with you? Right now? Because we're not together and now that I'm thinking about it this is really weird and too much and too fast and I shouldn't have brought you your jacket that one day? Fuck.

Mickey slid out from under Ian and got up, brushing the crumbs off his jeans and taking a drag from his cigarette. 

"It's late, gonna go to sleep. Wake me or Mandy up if you need anything." 

There. Dislodged. Disconnected. Shut it down. 

Ian struggled to sit up but collapsed back down in pain. "Mickey I didn't mean-" 

"It's fine. But seriously just shout if you need anything. More blankets or...or anything." 

Ian watched as Mickey awkwardly ran into an open cabinet on the way to the hallway. There was the sound of his room door shutting and Ian was alone in the living room.  
*  
*  
The next morning Mickey woke up to the ringing of his alarm clock. Today was the day. It really was. He was nervous about it even though he tried to tell himself any effort was better than nothing. It was just hard, that was all. 

Svetlana said she'd be there at 11:15 and it was 10:30 now so he had about a half hour to get ready. Mandy said she would help at least, and that made him feel better. 

He stretched his legs under the bed and sat up, groggily wiping his eyes and searching for the cup of water on his nightstand. Suddenly the muscles in his shoulders tensed and he felt a stabbing jolt run through him. The memory of last night. 

Holy fuck, did that happen? Was it real? Did he actually see Ian get his ass kicked onstage and then drive him home and proceed to fuck everything up by dropping his guard a little? Fuck, this was just what he needed. He was going to see his son not from behind glass for the first time in over a year and his probation officer was coming to talk to him about a job. And now he'd be distracted by Ian. Great. 

Mickey immediately hopped out of bed and made his way to the living room. He was about halfway there when he realized 1) all of the blankets were piled in a neat stack on the dining room table and 2) he was shirtless. 

He looked down at the tattoo on his chest and turned back toward his room to get a shirt. He couldn't do fuck all about the ink now but he sure as hell wasn't about to show anyone it ever again. Not like he had to worry about taking his shirt off at the pool or anything, he couldn't swim anyways. 

Mickey walked back to the living room with a fresh cotton blue long sleeve on and looked at the couch. Empty. The melted ice packs were scattered across it but nothing else, not even a sticky note of explanation. Mickey rummaged for his phone on the table and scrolled through his contacts. His finger hovered, shaking slightly above Ian's name before he pressed it. 

Ian picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey it's...it's Mickey."

"Hey."

"Uh, you left. You home?"

"Yeah I...just figured I didn't wanna bother you when you woke up."

"Oh, well...alright. You should probably go see a doctor. Could have a broken nose, me and Mandy couldn't tell."

"Yeah I ran by this morning. He says it's broken but not the worst he's seen. Should take just a few days and some meds."

Mickey paused.

"Okay. Hey uh...you didn't drink last night did you?"

Mickey could almost see the smile that was on Ian's face when he responded.

"No, Mick. I'm good. Didn't drink."

"Good. Bye-"

Mickey was about to hang up when he heard Ian quickly interrupt his efforts.

"Hey Mick..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Mickey stood there letting the words hang on the line. 

_Click._ Ian hung up the phone first.  
*  
*  
About a half hour later Mickey was in the front yard picking up heaps of trash and piling it into bins by the street. Some of the random crap actually had notes stuck to it. He picked up a used condom filled with a yellowish liquid and gagged. He looked closer at the scrawled writing on the sticky note.

_'For Terry. Suck a dick. RIP Cunt.'_

Classy. People had been driving by screaming obscenities at the house all week, dumping their empty beer bottles and other unmentionable items in the yard. At first he was confused, but a few days later it became clear when the notes kept mentioning his dad's name. Mickey couldn't blame them, he just wished he could tell them he felt the same way. 

Although it was confusing as to why people were deciding to do this now after he'd been shanked in prison. Stabbed in the stomach to be more exact. Couldn't they have done this when the asshole was still living there? He sighed. Guess people mourn in different ways. This wasn't really mourning though.

A few minutes later a dark blue Nissan Versa pulled up and the engine cut off. Mickey was still outside bent over a pile of trash. He checked to make sure his shirt and pants were clean of any of the disturbing liquids he'd encountered and brushed his hair back with a few fingers. Go time. 

Svetlana stepped out of the car and opened the backseat to pick Yevgeny up from his car seat. She'd gotten a haircut since the last time Mickey had seen her and now her auburn brown locks barely brushed her shoulders. She had on cherry red sunglasses that matched her skintight tank top. Ripped black jeans with a matching long winter coat that almost touched the ground. 

"You people never heard of a driveway?" she asked. 

Mickey smiled. "Sorry, kinda crowded with the trash bins of gifts for my dead pops." 

Svetlana brushed by him and straight into the house. Yevgeny turned around as she walked up the porch and Mickey waved his fingers at him. 

Mandy was already in the living room eagerly taking Yevgeny from Svet's hands when he came in. 

"Yev! Haven't seen you in forever buddy! Remember me? Aunt Mandy? That's right! I'm your aunt!" She laughed and made baby sounds as Yev tried to grab her blonde hair. 

Svetlana turned her gaze to Mickey. 

"So. Finally out eh? They get tired of you having gay sex or something?" 

Mickey crossed his arms and looked at Yev. "Somethin' like that." 

Svetlana punched him in the shoulder lightly. "Don't be a sourpuss. I'm glad you're back. Gives me some time to do errands without dragging him with me." 

"When are you gonna be back?" Mickey asked. 

Svetlana waved her hand in the air, "When I'm back. I put food for him in that bag over there and some diapers." 

She looked at Mickey pointedly over her sunglasses. "Don't let him burn the fucking house down. I swear he reminds me more of you everyday." 

She planted a kiss on Yev's cheek and tossed her hair as she closed the front door behind her.

He turned to look at Mandy. She had Yevgeny on the floor looking at a picture book with him that Svetlana had left. Her mouth ticked up in a smile and the crinkles around her eyes deepened. She leaned down and her blonde hair mingled with Yev's golden brown curls. Mickey smiled. She was beautiful. His son was too. He wondered if Yevgeny's hair would darken as he got older into Mandy and Mickey's natural jet black color, or if it would stay like Jaime and Iggy's lighter brown. Seeing the two of them playing together reminded Mickey of those days with his little sister. 

Newborn, Mickey cradling her and promising to teach her how to throw a frisbee like him someday. 

3, tearing up grass outside and pretending it was a flower for her since none grew near their house. 

6, packing her a peanut butter sandwich because she didn't like jelly and holding her hand as they walked to school. 

9, they played with the ladybugs that wandered in and poked holes in tires parked outside their house. 

11, he covered her ears when mom screamed at them for not bringing home the right cigarettes from the store. 

14, walking in to their dad struggling to take her shirt off and beating the shithead senseless until he flopped over facedown onto the floor. 

15, mom died. 

16, sweet 16. He was in juvie and couldn't wish her happy birthday. Came home a few days later with a box of makeup he found at a flea market. A box in his hand and a bruise on her cheek. She used it to cover the purple and red markings.  
*  
*  
Ian stared at the purple and red markings in the mirror of the bathroom. He'd walked a few blocks to Urgent Care and then all the way home with the winter breeze slicing into his cuts and bruises. When he came in through the front door he immediately spotted Monica passed out on the ground, still hugging her jacket she'd been wearing when he saw her earlier. The kitchen was swarming with Gallaghers making pancakes and pop tarts and fighting over who got the butter from the bottom of the container. 

Ian snuck upstairs and was now locked in the bathroom. The skin around his eyes was a deep purple color, splotches of red occasionally appearing in spots. There hadn't been a line at Urgent Care so he pleaded with the front desk woman for someone to just quickly take a look and tell him if his nose was fucked. 

The doctor poked and prodded around his face feeling for any possible fractures. In the end he'd said that his nose was indeed broken, but it was one of the more milder cases and as long as Ian iced it on and off and took a few pills for the next few days, he'd be fine. No bone realignment needed. 

Looking in the mirror Ian could tell the swelling had gone down immensely over night. His eyes were still bloodshot as hell and the marks on his face and neck were still visible, but that would heal soon enough. His body hurt. The muscles in his shoulders were sore when he tried to raise his arms. 

Ian took his shirt off along with the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water and the heat of it felt good against his beat up skin.

The door opened a few moments later. 

"Yo, who's in there?" Carl asked through the shower curtain. 

Ian debated on what his excuse for being gone was going to be before responding. 

"Ian." 

"What the hell Ian? Fiona's gonna be pissed. You know the new rule, gotta text her where you are." 

Ian rubbed shampoo into his hair and lifted his face so the water could wash the blood down his chest. 

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Be down in a sec." 

He heard the door shut and assumed Carl had left so he quickly washed off and reached for a towel hanging on the wall. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out to find his younger brother sitting on the toilet with the lid closed. 

"The fuck? What're you doing in here?" 

Carl's eyes widened at the sight of Ian's face. "Holy shit what happened to you?" 

Ian waved him off. "Went to a club last night. Got into a fight, not a big deal." 

Carl's mouth opened in surprise. "What? With Gabriel?" 

Ian dried off his hair and bent down to put on an off-white cotton long sleeve, leaving the few buttons at the top undone. 

"What? No! Just a random dude. He tried to get on me and wouldn't let up so we got into it." 

"Really?" Carl said halfheartedly and raised his arm to reveal Ian's phone in his hand. "Cuz...if it was Gabriel this text would make more sense." 

Ian rushed toward him and yanked the phone out of his hand to read the lit up message.

_Mickey, 11:43  
Better not've been lying about doctor. Lotsa ice. Also u took my jacket. We swapping jackets now?_

Ian smiled. He hadn't even realized it. He had woken up this morning on the couch unsure of his surroundings at first. It took a few seconds to realize why he was passed out at the Milkoviches and it brought all the club shit flooding back to him. 

Man that had been a bad decision. 

But then he thought about afterwards, opening his eyes to the only thing he would want to see after being beaten to a pulp. Ian had honestly thought he was dreaming until he reached up and felt Mickey's hand running along his cheek and making his skin burn even more. 

Carl's voice brought him back to the text. "So I can assume it was Gabriel?" 

Ian looked at him and gave in. It was Carl after all. "Yeah it was Gabriel. Shit happened, I lost it, don't remember much after that." 

Carl crossed his arms and smiled at him mischievously. "So where were you all night? Mickey take good care of you?" 

Ian slapped him with the towel and laughed. "Nah nothing happened. I just passed out on his couch and iced the hell outta these bruises. Shoulda seen me last night, I probably looked like a chipmunk!" 

"Man, he's got you real fucked up," Carl said shaking his head. 

"Yeah well, I got in a few punches too. Well, maybe just one real good one before he went ape shit." 

His brother leaned back and shook his head, "Not talking about Gabriel." 

They were quiet for awhile as Ian finished zipping his pants up and brushing his teeth, getting the remaining blood out that had stained a few of them. 

"Why don't you just kiss him?" Carl's question made Ian jump at how direct it was. 

"Whaddya mean?" 

"I mean, there's obviously still something there or he wouldn't have bothered to drag your bloody ass back to his place and nurse you on the couch like a fucking newborn duckling. Just...go over and kiss him." 

Ian glanced at Carl and realized he was being serious. No smile on his face. 

"It's not that easy Carl." 

His brother grunted and got up, "Whatever. Get down soon so Fiona can chew you out. Better to get it over with now before you hear the news." 

Ian looked at him through the mirror as he left and shut the door. 

"News?," he wondered aloud. 

He turned back to the mirror and noticed a small trickle of blood beginning to run down his nose again. Thinking back to what Carl said. Maybe it was that easy.


	7. No Heartbreak Here

Ian finished brushing his hair and picked up his phone to text Mickey back. He'd looked at that number in his contact list millions of times over the past year, wanting to text it but knowing it would never deliver. 

_'My bad, was half asleep when I grabbed it under the blanket.'_

He took the steps to the living room two at a time and suddenly slowed down when he realized the atmosphere had changed. No one was running around the kitchen anymore screaming about the expired milk in their lunch or the fact that it was the last day of school before break. It was weirdly quiet. 

He sat down on the couch and looked at Monica passed out on the ground. Man, as much as she'd screwed them over for as long as he could remember, he couldn't hate her. He could blame her for leaving and for refusing help and for doing all the drugs under the sun and for not caring about her family enough to put in an effort. But he couldn't hate her. 

Ian's phone buzzed in his hand and he looked down. 

_Mickey, 12:32 p.m.  
That a sex joke? _

Ian snorted and covered his mouth, looking up to see if anyone had heard him. Fiona appeared from the kitchen wearing a long black sweater and leggings with fuzzy winter boots on. Ian quickly coughed to hide his laughter. 

"Hey I thought Carl told you to come in here when you were done. Also what the fuck Ian? Your face!" Fiona walked over and grabbed his chin to look at the bruises. 

Ian winced and swatted her hand away. "It's nothing. Happened at the club but I'm fine. Got it checked out this morning." 

Fiona looked pissed. "This is what I have to deal with when you don't text me where you are. You could've gotten in some serious shit, Ian. Communication, remember?" Fiona tapped her temple with an index finger. "That's what we're all working on as a family okay? And we can't work on it if you're not gonna tell me what happened!"

Ian shrugged and looked down. He really didn't feel like explaining himself. Part of the reason being he still didn't even know why he went to the club and started a fight in the first place. It was a bad decision and he just wanted to move past it without getting bitched at by anyone else. 

Fiona finally gave up when she knew he wasn't going to say anything more. She crossed her arms and sat down next to him. 

Lip walked in holding a half-eaten bagel and leaned against the mantel on the living room fireplace. "So who's gonna do it?" he said breaking the silence in the room, "might as well rip the bandaid off." 

Fiona turned toward Ian and put a hand on his knee. "Ian, you would've known if you'd been here last night but...some stuff's come up with Monica. That's why she busted in here with no warning. Well, not like she warns us anyway." 

Ian met her eye and turned his head to look from Lip to Fiona. "What's going on?" 

Fiona blew away a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. "Monica's...not well." Ian stared at her and turned with a confused expression to his brother. 

Lip finished his bagel and wiped the crumbs from his face as he went to walk upstairs. "She's dying, Ian. Probably has a few weeks. At most."

The sides of Fiona's mouth rose in a sad smile and she patted Ian's knee. "We wanted to tell you before she woke up. I'm sorry." 

Ian turned back to gaze at his mom curled up on the floor. His hand came up to touch the bruise on his cheek. "From what?" he managed to get out before biting his lip. 

"Liver failure's what it seems like. Least that's what she told us." Fiona laughed and got up. "Jesus, just like Frank. The two paragons of perfect health and parental figures." 

Ian could hear his sister moving on to another conversation but he wasn't listening. He was watching Monica on the ground sleeping, her mouth hanging open and her leg twitching slightly.  
*  
*  
Mandy was going to be late. She'd fallen asleep with Yevgeny cradled in her arms and had woken up about 10 minutes ago. She had to get to the salon by 4:30 and it was already 4:25. 

She threw a pair of leggings and a silk top on, zipping up some thigh high boots and grabbing a furry jacket. She ran back into the living room and jostled Mickey awake by the shoulder. 

He sprang up ready to sock the person in front of him and breathed out when he saw it was Mandy. "Jesus, is the apocalypse happening or something? A little lighter next time?" 

"Sorry, gotta get to work. You're good with Yev right? Svet should be back later." 

"Yeah I'm fuckin' good. I got it." Mickey rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

Mandy grabbed her keys and headed to the door. "Alright well, it's time for Yev to eat so just feed him some of the shit in that bag. Remember to clean the house before the probation officer comes!" 

Mickey waved her off and turned to crack his back before lumbering over to the bag of baby items. 

He picked up a jar with a greenish liquid in it. "Pear...pear'ios? What the fuck?" he said to himself and turned to look at Yevgeny. "You want this shit?" 

Yevgeny made a gurgling sound and shook his head furiously. 

"Yeah didn't think so. Let's get you some real food right? Yeah?" Mickey picked Yevgeny up and headed over to the kitchen where he found a cold pizza in the fridge. He stuck it in the microwave that looked like it was on its last leg and waited to hear the beep. He made a surprised noise at the boy and took the pizza out. 

"Look at that! Now we're talkin'. I'm not too bad of a chef you know Yev? Not too bad of a guy." Yevgeny giggled and locked a small hand around a piece of Mickey's hair sticking out. "What, you think it needs gel? Thought I was working the natural look. Guess you're right, could use some slicking back." 

He let Yevgeny hold onto his ear as they sat down on the couch. Mickey cut up the pizza into small bites for the boy and kept a watchful eye on him as he bent over to retrieve a book from the coffee table. His journal. He opened it to the last page that had writing. 

_'Feeling really confused. A lot of emotions. I'm happy to be home, I love my family. I'm happy Terry is dead. Way less paranoid about things. I keep feeling like he's going to show up and ruin it but he's gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.'_

Mickey reread his writing and scribbled out the extra 'gone's. This was something he'd been working on ever since he got out a few weeks ago. Trying to channel his emotions into a tangible form instead of keeping them inside where they ate at him. It was actually something Gabriel had taught him. 

They'd started talking on exercise breaks when the prisoners filed out into a small grassy field surrounded by a dilapidated chain fence. The guy had come up a little too close to him once and Mickey had almost beat his brains out, but there was an air about him that felt different from the other prisoners. Something more calculated, calm, intelligent. 

He'd talk to Gabriel as they walked around the track. About everything. About his dad, his home, what'd he'd been through, about Ian. Gabriel would mostly nod and look out toward the fence. 

Sometimes he talked about his brother to Mickey. His name was Oscar. He'd been deported a few years ago and with his dad in jail and his mom dead, there was nothing much anyone could do.

Gabriel always spent his allotted phone calls trying to talk to their grandmother who was now Oscar's guardian, sometimes speaking furiously in Spanish. Sometimes setting down the phone in tears. Most of the time she didn't pick up.

At first Mickey was closed off with him. Once he figured out Gabriel was bisexual, only muttering a few words before they banged in one of the cells or closets in a deserted hallway. But prison was lonely. 

There was no one to talk to about real things that mattered until he'd met Gabriel and slowly became accustomed to the guy's easygoing presence. 

Mickey snorted and it brought him out of his daze. Yeah, easygoing alright. Up to this point he hadn't found anything that had set Gabriel off like how Ian did in the club. He had assumed Gabriel wouldn't even give Ian a second look since he'd already talked about him so much. 

Apparently that wasn't the case though. To be honest, both of them had surprised Mickey. He had no idea that Ian was going to be that mad, it was a misjudgment on his part. Of course he wanted to rile Ian up a bit, but no way in hell had he wanted Gabriel to beat the living shit out of him. 

That led to the second problem. Mickey was going to have to talk to Gabriel about this eventually. 

He sighed and put his pencil to the paper. Gabriel made him promise awhile ago to write in it everyday. Even if it was terrible, he'd said, it would help eventually. 

He popped the crust of Yevgeny's pizza into his mouth and hunched down to focus. 

_'Ian. If I saw him sitting here I wouldn't know what to say honestly. Right now I'm just writing this. I don't know what to say here yet either. Sometimes I know what to say to him. I used to. Now I'm not sure if I could even word it right. I don't want to miss this chance but there's this weird feeling. A feeling like, if I try it'll disappear. Whatever it is. I pushed him and he pushed back. So it's even. Hopefully. Ian. He makes me feel like a person again.'_  
*  
*  
Around 5:15 Ian got home from work and opened the door to Monica bounding around the house.

"Ian! There's no fucking food in this place! I'm starving!" 

"Isn't Fiona bringing home something?" he said as he set his bag down. 

"She's working a double tonight and Lip took the kids to his internship place. Just you and me!" 

He grinned and unzipped his jacket. "Okay, well, I guess we can go out. I'll meet you by the door. Gotta pee." 

When he came back down Monica was standing there deep in thought. "Ian how're we gonna get there? You don't have a car do ya?" 

"Nah I usually just walk. The City Grill is like a block that way. Probably easiest if we just go there." 

She hooked her arm around his and skipped out of the doorway. "Cool!"  
*  
When they got there most of the indoor tables were full so the waitress seated them on the vacant patio complete with a few rusty chairs and tables. They both ordered cheeseburgers and fries and the waitress left them alone outside. 

Monica propped her arms up on the table and leaned closer to Ian. "So. What's been going on with you the past year?" 

Ian twirled the straw in his drink slowly. "Uh, well I got a job. Working as an EMT. Still in the early parts of it so I'm learning a lot. Hmm what else. Meds are good. They're working. I'm doing really good."

Monica reached over and pat his arm. "That's so good Ian. I'm really fuckin' happy for you. I really am." 

He smiled back and touched her hand, not knowing how to broach the subject. "So, Fiona told me some stuff about you...said you're uh, not doing too good?" 

"Liver failure. Been going on for awhile but I kinda just ignored it. Can't really ignore it now though. Sometimes I can barely move. Fuckin' hurts." 

Ian looked away. "Yeah I bet. But it...the doctors can't do anything? A transplant like Frank?" 

Monica leaned back in her chair. "Nah, waiting lists and shit. Plus I don't really mind. Nothing much more I wanna do anyways." 

"What? Don't say that mom. There's plenty to do still. What about the shit all those people do right before they die? Skydiving? Swim with sharks? Anything?" 

She laughed and crossed her arms. "Ian I've done all that shit. Shoulda seen me when I was younger. Barely stayed in one place. I was always going places, you know I've been to every state? Well, almost every state. Except fucking South Dakota. Never got to go there." 

"Man. Fuck South Dakota" Ian said with a grin. 

"Right? If I wanted to see a bunch of stones for dead people I'd walk down to the damn cemetery." 

Ian grew quiet. "I just...wish I could do something. Or the doctors." 

Monica brushed it off and shook her head. "I wanna hear about you Ian, I'm boring. How's your boyfriend?" 

He was about to tell her he was actually going over tomorrow for a date night when he realized she meant Mickey. "Uh, well we're actually not...together. We broke up. Awhile ago." 

Monica uncrossed her arms and leaned back over. "What the hell? Why!" She looked concerned and her face was scrunched as if she was trying to remember something. 

"Figured you didn't remember. It was kinda around the time I went with you when you were dating that guy...forget his name but he was in that trailer in some field? I dunno. It was a really rough time and you told me shit that got to me and I was just-" 

Ian stopped himself and took a breath, talking more quiet now. "I was just confused and scared and it ended badly. For both of us. Shouldn't have ended like that." 

Monica made a humming noise and looked around. "I don't...I just really don't remember that honestly. I'm sorry if I said something I just, hmm. I'm not the most reliable when it comes to advice. Gets all confusing in my head. I mean all I can do now is tell you that you're healthy. And I'm proud of you."

Monica took his hands and stared at him, continuing "You can make your own decisions now. If you fucked it up? Go fix it. You know? We've all got another shot. Always. I believe it." 

Ian looked down as the waitress came back. "What about your other shot?" 

Monica winked and eased back when the food came. "Used it already. Door shut on that a long time ago."  
*  
*  
_Straighten the pillow. Little more. There. No, too straight. Lean it to the side a little. Good._

Mickey fidgeted on the couch looking around to make sure the house looked clean. He'd spent the past half hour walking around and checking everywhere for guns and ammo, alcohol and cigarettes. 

He really didn't want to make a bad impression on whoever his new probation officer was. He needed a job and the last thing he wanted to do was piss off the person and get stuck with a sewage waste gig. 

Yevgeny was playing on the ground with a pair of Mickey's shorts. He hoped that would keep the little troublemaker busy until the officer left. He still couldn't believe he was out. Pure fucking luck. He was actually debating on whether or not to visit Sammi who was still in prison just to flip her off one more time and get the last word in.

The doorbell rang and Mickey sucked in a breath. He opened it with a smile that immediately turned into a raise of his eyebrows and an open mouth of surprise. 

"Who the..." he trailed off as Jimmysteve nodded and passed by him into the living room. 

"Mickey! It's been a long time. I see your house is as shitty as ever." 

Mickey regained his composure and shut the door, turning to look at the familiar face in his house. "For your information I spent at least a half an hour cleaning it. Guess I wouldn't have if I'd known your skinny ass was comin' instead." 

Jimmysteve turned to look at his ass and shrugged. "Nice to know we're good enough friends that you wouldn't clean for me." 

"Yeah sure, whatever you say. The fuck are you doing here?" 

Jimmysteve walked over and rummaged in the fridge for a beer before sitting down on the chair in the living room. Mickey plopped down on the couch and stared at him. 

"You're welcome to a beer" he said sarcastically and eyed the papers on the coffee table. 

"Hey thanks! So if you couldn't tell, I'm kind of your probation officer. Kind of meaning not at all and I'm actually doing an undercover job right now in fear of getting both of my kneecaps blown off but details..." Jimmysteve waved a hand and picked up the stack of papers. 

"So...you're not my probation officer?" Mickey was getting annoyed, he didn't have time for this guy's shit. He never got why Fiona liked him so much. 

"Well I technically am yeah, like this is my job. For now until Augustus gives me the word to head outta town." 

Mickey didn't feel like psychoanalyzing Jimmysteve's situation right now, something was always up with this guy.

He propped his feet up on the table and leaned back into the couch. "Arright, so you're my probation bitch. Provide me, an inferior criminal, with your fountains of wisdom." 

Jimmysteve grinned and reached over to slap his knee. "Now that's the spirit!" 

"Touch me again and I might regain my memory of where the loaded glock is in the cabinet over there" Mickey said in a deadpan tone. 

Jimmysteve's hand shot away and for the first time he noticed Yevgeny on the floor. "Did you and Ian...-" 

"Yes me and Ian banged and birthed a fucking child, can you just do what you came here for?" Mickey said cutting him off. 

"Right. So let's look at some possible job openings for you. I know some people so honestly we could get you in anywhere if I put in a word with my, uh, boss. Funny thing is I was looking through people who needed to be visited and happened to just see your name on one of the lists. It's like...destiny right?" 

Mickey rolled his eyes and itched his nose. "Yeah it's like a fuckin' Disney movie. Except the glass slipper is just your weird ass tight-fitting shoes and the magic carpet is just this shitstained one under us." 

Jimmysteve put his hand under his chin in thought. "Hm, you know now that I'm thinking about it you bear a striking resemblance to Snow White." 

Mickey jerked his thumb signaling the gun cabinet behind him and the man shut up and looked quickly down at the papers again. 

"Let's see what we have here. Trash pickup, could work. Maintenance, like roofs, renovations, could work. Accountant, fuck no." 

"Now hold on, hold on there weaselface why the fuck couldn't I be an accountant?" 

Jimmysteve shrugged, "I dunno, you any good with numbers?" 

Mickey eyed him. "Yeah in fact I am. Don't worry about it though, keep going. Not really wanting a desk job anyways." 

"Okay let's see. Hotel receptionist, waiter, janitor at a sperm bank, park ranger, librarian...Oh! A stripper!" 

"Yeah wouldn't you like to see that" Mickey grumbled out. 

Jimmysteve scratched a word off from the list. "Actually nevermind your boyfriend's probably got that covered hmm." 

"He's not my fu-oh, you mean Gabriel? Yeah." 

Jimmysteve checked his watch and bolted up from the chair. "Oh fuck I'm gonna get shredded if I don't leave right now. Listen I'll call you sometime soon about jobs okay? We might have one open up for you soon." 

Mickey lit up a cigarette and puffed out smoke. "Nothing illegal Jimmy! Or steve! Jack? Ah go to hell" he called out to the man fastwalking out of the house.  
*  
*  
The next day Ian was sprawled out on the Gallagher couch thinking about what Monica had said. _Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. How?_ He'd been mulling over these two simple words for awhile when his phone buzzed. 

_Trevor, 9:34 p.m.  
Date night right? _

Fuck. Ian had forgotten. He shot up and found his shoes among the mess on the floor, lacing them up tight when Lip sauntered in. 

"Your face looks better" he remarked, studying Ian. 

"Yeah, still hurts some but it's healing pretty fast." 

Lip took a drag from his cigarette and kept staring. "Where are you headed?" 

"Trevor's. We're having like a date at his apartment or something." 

"You sure? Trevor's? That's exactly where you're going?" 

Ian looked up at that remark. "Uh, yeah he just texted me. What's up with you?" 

"Nothing, nothing. Just, the last time you lied about where you were you ended up at a club getting your face smashed into the floor," Lip said and casually walked by him. 

Ian finished putting on his boots and stood. "Yeah, well, I'm going to Trevor's. Feel free to creepily stalk me on your bike in the shadows or whatever. Your call." 

Lip pursed his lips and looked out the window. "I'm uh, I'm going somewhere too. In awhile. So...I'll see ya." With that he jogged upstairs and disappeared. 

"Well that wasn't weird at all" Ian said to himself and shut the front door behind him.  
*  
Trevor lived a little ways away and Ian made sure to bundle up as he braced the nighttime winter chill. It was one of those apartment complexes where each place was a separate building and you could see the ones a few feet away on both sides by looking out a window. 

Ian finally got there and rang the doorbell. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. His mind was mulling this over again when the door swung open and Trevor stood there with headphones on blasting Arctic Monkeys. 

"Hey," he grinned and let Ian in before closing the door. 

Ian looked around. He'd been there before but something looked different. "You do something to the place?" 

Trevor took off his headphones and the music stopped. "Yeah I moved some furniture, put the TV in that corner and the couch by that window over there." 

Trevor gestured to the huge window on one side of his small living room. The blinds were pulled almost shut, but Ian could see another apartment through the opening. 

"Nice." 

Trevor motioned for Ian to sit on the couch and he left, coming back a few seconds later with Chinese food. "Got it from down the block. You might get food poisoning just saying." 

Ian smiled. "I'm starving, I'll take that risk." 

They dug into the food and started a movie. To be honest Ian couldn't even tell what was playing because his thoughts kept wandering to the conversation with Monica and the one a few days ago with Carl. 

_Fix it. Another shot. Just kiss him. Just kiss him? What? Crazy. No way. Just kiss him! Another shot!_

Ian looked over to find Trevor staring at him, slowly leaning in with a smirk on his face. Ian set the paper plate in front of him and stood up. 

"Uh, bathroom" he blurted out and hustled to the hallway. He needed to calm down. _Think of something else. How about Trevor?_ Ian lectured himself in his brain. _Maybe you should think of Trevor since, I dunno, you're at his fucking place? And he's your boyfriend?_

Ian whipped the bathroom door open and looked at himself in the mirror. The bruises really were fading, that was good. Still kinda hurt though. He turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. He slapped his cheeks to jar him out of the daze. 

_Okay Ian, okay. Go back in there. Kiss your fucking boyfriend! Kiss...oh god, now he was thinking about it again._

Ian shuffled back into the room and smiled reassuringly. "Sorry, thought I was gonna be sick for a second." 

Trevor paused with a fork full of noodles in his hand. "Told ya about the food poisoning." 

Ian sat down and continued watching the...whatever the fuck was playing, he still didn't know. He let Trevor sling an arm around his shoulder and tried to settle down. Tried to ignore the wrong feeling bubbling up from his gut. 

"Hey can you close the blinds more? The light from the other place is coming in, it's distracting" Trevor said, his eyes glued to the screen. 

Ian sat up on his knees and turned around to shut the blinds when he saw the other apartment. Their blinds were fully open so he could see what looked like a bedroom seeping light out from it. 

He watched as their bedroom door opened and a tall man with dark hair walked in followed by another dark-haired man, but shorter. Ian's breath hitched as the taller man turned his face more toward the window and caught the light along his razor cheekbones. 

Gabriel. 

Ian was just registering this when the other man turned to face him. Gabriel's back was now to the window and Ian could see the shorter man perfectly from here. 

And perfect was the word to describe him. Mickey. 

They looked like they were in an argument, Mickey had his hands in the air with one pointed at Gabriel. He had that homicidal look on his face when he got angry, his striking eyebrows raised to maximum height and his eyes burning. Fists clenched. 

It looked like Gabriel was trying to calm down the situation. His arms were raised in submission and he was slowly backing up closer to the window. 

_Wait. Window. Oh fuck._

Ian quickly ripped the curtain so it connected with the other side of the fabric and all light blinked out. He sunk back down into the cushion with his mouth slack. His body was buzzing, humming, electrified. 

Of all the neighbors Trevor could have, it just had to be Gabriel? Really? Ian hissed out a breath and shoved his hands under his legs to keep them from shaking.  
*  
After awhile of watching _The Karate Kid,_ yes he'd finally figured out after a few fight sequences what it was, Ian decided he had to leave. He physically couldn't sit still thinking about letting the opportunity pass up. 

Alright, come on, acting skills, let's do it. Ian suddenly put a hand to his stomach and another over his mouth trying his best to make a gagging sound. 

Trevor's head whipped to the right. "You okay?" 

"I think I'm gonna be sick. Gotta go home" he yelled and burst into the air. 

"Woah holy shit, do you need a ride or...?" 

Ian waved him off. "No I'll call an Uber it's fine. Man I'm sorry. Really wanted to finish _The Next Karate Kid."_

 _"The Karate Kid"_ Trevor corrected him. 

"Really wanted to finish _The Karate Kid."_ Ian grabbed his jacket and swung the door back open. 

"I'll text you!" Trevor exclaimed as the door shut. 

Ian wiped a hand over his forehead. Good thing that was done, Jesus. He looked over to see no cars parked outside Gabriel's apartment. Mickey must've left already. 

Ian started running down the street, the crunch of snow under his boots rising up as he stomped on the tiny shreds of grass rising from the sidewalk. 

He ran past his house again and looked to see that no lights were on. Lip must've left to wherever he mysteriously said he was going. 

Ian pumped his arms faster and let the adrenaline vibrate through him. He breathed the frigid air through his nose and huffed it out of his mouth, the fog of his breath racing by him. 

_Go. Go. Run. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. Another shot._

Streams of colors passed by him as he shot around each corner until he got to the street. He slowed down and walked the rest of the way so he could catch his breath. And then he was in front of the house. 

He squinted in to see it was mainly dark except for the dim light of a lamp on in the living room. Ian rubbed his hands together to coax the blood flow back and ascended the porch steps once again. The door creaked when he entered the living room. 

"Hello?" he said tentatively, not wanting to wake up anyone if they were asleep. 

He heard a door open and Mickey walked out from the hallway. Ian tried to ignore the fact that he was wearing a light grey jersey t-shirt and dark blue boxers. His hair slicked back with a loose strand separated from the rest. 

Mickey halted. "Uh..." 

Ian dropped his coat. "Is Mandy home? Or Iggy or anyone?" He could visibly see Mickey swallow from where he stood. 

"Nah, Mandy's at a friend's from the salon and my brothers are...out of town." 

By the way he said that, Ian could tell it was probably something illegal. 

Ian nodded and picked up the jacket from the ground. "I brought your jacket." 

Mickey stepped closer and hesitantly took it. "Thanks." 

Ian's whole body was shaking and he could feel the bruises starting to swell from the pressure in his head. 

"I saw you at Gabriel's" he blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Mickey took a step back and raised an eyebrow. "You...saw me? What, peeping through a window or something?" Mickey laughed, the sound coming out harsh in the quiet house. 

"Actually yeah I was at my boyfriend's. Looked back and there you were. _Some_ neighbor Trevor has" Ian retorted in a biting tone.

Mickey nodded and pursed his lips in mocking approval. "Nice, nice. Not weird at all Gallagher." 

When he didn't say anything else Ian cleared his throat. "So, yeah, I was at my boyfriend's watching a movie. And saw you. But I...left his house." 

Mickey smiled and tilted his head. "So uh, whatcha doin' here then?" 

Ian looked down and teetered on his toes. He sniffed before lunging at Mickey. 

Their lips connected and the jacket fell onto the ground again. Ian brought his hands up to cup Mickey's face as he pressed his burning lips harder. Harder. Mickey's mouth opened and Ian slipped his tongue in, searching for Mickey's. Their tongues collided and Ian's mouth slid across the other boy's soft, full lips. 

Mickey's hands wrapped around Ian's waist and moved upward as he grabbed at Ian's back, making their way to the back of his neck where his red hair met pale skin. 

Ian moved closer and pressed his chest into Mickey's. Suddenly he jerked to the lift and rammed the surprised boy into the closet by the door. Mickey grunted as Ian pinned him to the wall, not letting up the pressure of his lips. 

He bit Mickey's bottom lip and moved downward, his lips making their way to Mickey's neck. Ian sucked hard on his throat and grazed his teeth over his collarbone. He glided his lips over Mickey's neck causing Mickey to obediently raise his head in pleasure, his mouth opening and a low growl coming from his throat. 

Ian found his lips again and he hungrily closed them over Mickey's. Their tongues slid together again. 

_Faster. Deeper. More. Harder. Faster._

Ian's hands ran up and down Mickey's muscular arms. He pressed them against the closet and Mickey reached up to grasp Ian's hair from behind. Ian kissed his jawline and nipped at his throat again. 

He leaned his forearms on either side of Mickey's head into the closet to prevent him from moving. Mickey's head was pinned back and he tried to lean forward to kiss Ian again. Ian moved in and licked his ear slowly. 

"I want you" Ian whispered in a low, husky voice. 

Mickey huffed out a breath and slowly opened his eyes to look at Ian inches away from him. His chest rose and fell against Ian's as he looked him up and down slowly. Taking each item of Ian's clothes off with his eyes. Raking his body from head to toe. 

God, it was all he ever wanted. Nothing stopped him from thinking about Ian. He'd tried everything but nothing worked. And here Ian was, pinning him up against a wall in his own house. 

"So have me" he whispered at the same time as Ian jerked him up by the shirt.

They stumbled into Mickey's room, jostling the door handle until it opened. 

Ian shoved Mickey onto his back in the bed and climbed on top of him. The room was dark but Ian could see the boy's sweat dripping down his face, his blue eyes unlatching Ian's control. 

It was slipping. Who was he kidding, it had already slipped. This? This was an avalanche. 

Ian ground into Mickey and pressed his hot lips to his beating throat again. "Wanted to do this," Ian said in between kisses, "in the club. Was gonna take you back in the VIP room." 

He felt the vibration of Mickey's laugh against his face. "Yeah? And how were you so sure you were gonna get me back there?"

Ian sensed the challenge in his voice. "Well, I was gonna do this" he purred, deliberately pressing his searing lips into Mickey's again, sliding them up and down and letting his tongue explore Mickey's mouth. 

"And then..." Ian slowly moved to his neck "this." He pressed another deep kiss into where Mickey's larynx was. 

"And then..." Ian moved his body down further so his face was at Mickey's waistband. He pulled his underwear down slowly with his teeth and gripped his hips. 

Mickey groaned and tried to bring Ian back up to his face, but Ian swatted his hand away and massaged his underwear further down until it was to his knees. 

Mickey was exposed and looked down at Ian who purposefully made eye contact as his lips went to kiss the inside of Mickey's upper legs. 

"Your thighs Mickey" he breathed out making the other boy's breath hitch. "They're so fucking amazing. Fucking thick." 

He squeezed Mickey's thighs and let his nails run down them. Mickey shivered involuntarily and a noise escaped from his throat. Mickey thrust his hips off of the bed trying to connect them with Ian's, but Ian slammed them back down into the covers. 

Ian took his time kissing every part of Mickey's upper thighs and lower stomach, the warmth of each kiss enveloping Mickey's cold skin and setting it ablaze. "C'mon what's taking so long" Mickey said in a low whine. 

"What, this doesn't feel good?" Ian slid his hands under Mickey's shirt and positioned himself between his legs more. Ian's head slowly dipped down and they were still looking at each other when his tongue found Mickey's cock. He slid it along the tip and all the way up. 

"Ian" Mickey moaned out. 

"Shhh" he said and let his mouth wrap fully around the tip of Mickey's cock. 

He started moving up and down, a noise he couldn't control in his throat rising up. 

"Fuck!" Mickey yelled when Ian took more of him in, remembering the way he used to do it. 

"Remember this, Mick? Yeah? Remember?" he mumbled out. 

"Yeah, yeah, god. I fucking...god I remember. Ian stop. Oh god. Oh fucking god. Don't. Don't stop" Mickey huffed out through a series of moans and groans and heavy breathing. 

He reached down and locked a hand in Ian's hair as Ian began going faster, getting the rhythm down. 

Ian's head dipped up and back down to take in more of Mickey's cock, sliding his mouth further each time. Mickey spread his legs so Ian could go down more and he struggled to breathe, one hand holding Ian's head while the other propped himself up on the bed. 

"Ian, fuck, Ian I'm, fuck Ian I'm gonna, soon, _fuck!"_

"You taste...good" Ian panted out. He could taste Mickey about to climax. 

Suddenly they both heard the familiar squeaking of the front door on its hinges. Ian froze, his mouth on Mickey and Mickey's tight grip still in his hair. 

Ian looked up and saw a panicked expression on his face. His eyes bright with overwhelming pleasure and newfound fear. 

"Fuck" Ian whispered and quickly detached his mouth from Mickey's erect cock. He hurriedly pushed the underwear back over the bulge and hopped off Mickey's scorching body. 

Mickey winced and groaned in pain at the sudden emptiness. He pulled his underwear up more and sat up, rummaging for some pants he could use to hide the bulge. He couldn't find any and whipped around to Ian in the dark. 

"Gimme your pants!" 

Ian looked at him incredulously. "Are you fucking insane?" 

Mickey beat his fist into the covers. "No, gimme your fucking pants!" he whispered harshly. 

Ian started stripping his pants off and offered a shaking hand to Mickey. "Fine! Here! They're not gonna fucking fit you!" 

"I know, my ass is way bigger than yours!" he retorted and shoved them on before getting up. 

"Yo!" they heard a voice call from the living room. Lip's voice. What the fuck? 

Mickey ran a hand through his hair and turned around. "How do I look?" 

"Like you just got a really good blowjob!" Ian whispered back. 

Mickey cursed and got up, gesturing for Ian to hide under the bed. Ian rolled off the sheets and gracefully positioned himself under the wooden boards. 

Mickey stumbled out to find Lip with his arms crossed standing in the living room. 

"Um, can I help you?" 

Lip grinned. "Havin' a good time with Gabriel?" 

Mickey felt the heat in his cheeks rise. "Fuck off man, what'd you want?" He hoped he didn't sound as breathless as he felt at the moment.

Lip peeked around him to try and see down the hallway. Mickey stepped to the side to block his view. 

"Oh I was just in the neighborhood. But I guess now that I'm here I did recall wanting to talk to you...hmmmm, about Ian?" 

Ian heard the exchange from under the bed and furrowed his eyebrows. 

Mickey tried to hide the quiver in his voice. "Ian. Your brother Ian." 

Lip clicked his tongue, "Yup that's the one. Listen, I dunno if you know this, but he hasn't stopped talking about you since you got sprung." 

Mickey spread his arms out, "What can I say? Guess I'm pretty unforgettable." 

Lip sniffled in annoyance. "So I've heard. Look I'm not trying to make this a dramatic thing okay? But all I know is Ian literally does not shut the fuck up about you. That's fine and all, whatever. You guys are cool. But, see, it becomes a problem when my brother comes home looking like he just got run over by a firetruck." 

Mickey paused to let what he was saying sink in. "Alright so...that's my problem because...?" 

"Because I don't wanna see him get broken again okay? I don't wanna see him getting his heart smashed again!" Lip yelled. 

Mickey took a step forward and his eyes bore into Lip's. "My heart, my heart was fucking smashed too you know? Lip? You realize that right? We wanna talk about heartbreak? Let's fucking talk. Oh wait but I couldn't for the past goddam year because I was in fucking prison! Because of your fucked up family!" 

Ian shifted under the bed and let his closed eyes touch the ground. Each word barreling into him. 

Lip raised his hands up and backed away. "It's fine, it's fine. No problem here. No problem at all. Just wanted to clear things up since I know you've got a little man on the side there." 

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, sure. And uh, Ian has a boyfriend. So it's settled right? No heartbreak here, we're good right?" 

Lip patted Mickey's shoulder. "Of course yeah, we're good. It's all good. Ian's got a boyfriend and you've...yeah. All settled." 

Mickey let his chest expand back out as he breathed. 

Lip was walking out when he turned back around quizzically looking at Mickey. "You've kept those pants for over a year? Probably wanna give 'em back to Ian man." 

Mickey gave him an exaggerated thumbs up and hustled back to his room when he heard the front door close. 

"Ian" he whispered to under the bed. "You can come out now, shithead of a brother's gone." 

When he didn't hear a response he bent down to look under the bed. No one was there. He stood back up to look at the window on the other side of his room that was ajar slightly, letting the cold breeze rush in. Mickey shivered at the ghost of Ian's lips still on his. He closed his eyes.


	8. Noelle

Fuck going over to Mickey's. He should've known something would go wrong, it always did. Throughout Ian's whole life this had happened. They'd start moving closer and closer and Ian would start seeing him clearly. Seeing through the bullshit. Seeing through to _him._

Until something happened that drove a barrier back between them. It didn't matter how small this was compared to the past, he knew the effect Lip's words had. On both of them. 

Mickey would pull away again, that short moment of letting Ian back in wasted in a rush of lips and bodies pressed together. That moment of him opening his worn eyes to Mickey's fingers running down his face, gone. As for Ian, he felt terrible. He knew none of it was his fault really, but he couldn't help feeling guilty when he thought about himself walking free the past year when Mickey was locked up like an animal. 

_"You wanna talk about heartbreak? Let's talk."_ That line hit Ian the hardest. 

He was sure Mickey probably wouldn't even remember saying that to Lip in the heat of the moment, but Ian would remember. He didn't like to think of that moment. Standing there watching the flash of a jacket speed down the sidewalk and lurch into their front yard. Raising his hands to Mickey in defeat. 

In defeat of his relationship, his family, his disorder, himself. But there it was, that moment. Always there waking Ian up in the middle of the night. He felt it creep down the hallways of his house, it always found him. It didn't matter who he was with or what he was doing. 

That moment of self loss and destruction of the person he loved at the same time. Mickey. He should've fucking visited him. Maybe that could've saved whatever this was. Maybe Monica was right and he'd already used his second shot too. Maybe it was too late now. 

*

Ian had just opened the door to his house and was trudging in when he heard the back door open and was sucked back into the present situation. 

_Lip, door, no pants, fuck._

Ian made a beeline for the couch and hurled himself over it. He landed on the cushion and yanked a blanket over his lap to cover up the fact that he was in his underwear. That probably wouldn't go over well if Lip made the connection of his pants and the conversation with Mickey. 

Lip walked into the living room and squinted in the dark at the couch. "Ian?" 

Ian made it a point to sit up with an exaggerated yawn. "Oh hey...was just falling asleep." 

"On the couch? Someone take your room?" 

Ian probed for an explanation. "Yeah Monica was up there so...just figured I'd crash here. Where ya been?" 

Lip shrugged casually. "Late night at my internship. Hey can I bring that blanket up? It's cold as shit in here." 

Lip reached for the blanket and Ian hugged it tightly to his legs. "Uh no! No! Get your own damn blanket, I'm cold too!" 

Lip raised his hands and backed away. "Alright, jeez. You've been acting so weird lately. Suck a dick and relax." 

Ian laughed a little too nervously at that and Lip scratched his head. Ian could see him still standing there unsure what to do. 

"Well goodnight" Lip suddenly said and walked upstairs. 

Ian relaxed back onto the couch and breathed out a sigh. He didn't want to take any risks of his brother finding out about tonight. Unless Mickey was fine with another visit, this time maybe not so friendly. 

He closed his eyes and touched a finger to his lips. Mickey's lips. Warm and alive and more familiar than his own sometimes.  
*  
*  
His eyes opened and immediately went to the phone on the nightstand. Wondering if there would be a text from last night or this morning. 

Mickey didn't have to lay there for a few minutes trying to figure out if it had been a dream. He knew it was real. Very real. The feeling of Ian all over him, his chest trapping him against the wall while his lips worked over Mickey's skin. 

And then in his bed, the one he was laying in right now. The euphoria of Ian dominating him and not letting up and hungrily taking him in and. Lip. _God, he just had to show up?_

Although Mickey was secretly relieved they'd been interrupted. He was scared things were escalating and he would've ended up saying something he'd regret later. Like how he needed Ian. Like how everything in his life reminded him of that. Maybe it was best that uncertainty had been cut off before they did something dumb. Maybe. 

Mickey leaned over and pressed the home button. No messages from Ian. One from Gabriel. 

_Gabriel, 8:43 a.m.  
Ur bros r getting the stuff today right? _

Mickey unlocked his phone and texted him back a simple 'yes.' 

He felt around for the grey shirt on the floor and pulled it over his chest as he walked into the kitchen. 

Mandy was sitting with Yevgeny on her lap in the living room with the TV turned to _Mickey Mouse Clubhouse._

She turned around and grinned. "Hey look! We're watching the guy you were named after!" 

Mickey grunted and poured a bowl of cereal. "Never heard that one before." 

He'd always been teased in middle school about his nickname. Kids would snicker and come up to him asking for autographs. _"Hey Mickey Mouse! Shouldn't you be at Disney right now?" "Hey Mickey do the voice for us!" "Mickey can you come to my little sister's birthday party? She loves you!"_

It had bothered him so much at one point that he'd started just going by Mikhailo in seventh grade. But eventually people started teasing him for that name too so he switched back. 

If his mom was feeling well, which was rarely, she sometimes marched into the office with her son in hand demanding to talk to the principal. 

"My son," she would say, "My son is a good kid. No one in this school should be getting bullied for something they cannot change about themselves." 

The principal would apologize and promise to have a talk with the kids about respecting others, but everyone knew that would never happen. She walked out of the building with Mickey in tow, her head raised high, and bent down to look him in the eyes. 

_"You don't apologize for who you are. You hear me? Never. Don't take their shit either. If someone lays a hand on you, you lay one back. Harder. Stand up for yourself and your siblings. Because at the end of the day, those people in there? They're nothing to you. Be there for yourself and the people you love. That's all you owe, Mikhailo."_

He missed his mom. She wasn't perfect, but still. She stood up to Terry as much as she could, even though sometimes she gave up and shut the door of her room. She'd been struggling with Chronic Obstructive Pulminary Disease for a long time. Sometimes she lashed out her frustration on the kids and spit insults at them. But Mickey knew she loved them. Wanted the best for them, but couldn't provide it. Her COPD worsened when he was around 17 and she left them alone to the hands of Terry. 

_Aleksandra._

*

Mickey sat down next to Mandy and Yevgeny on the couch. Mandy glanced over and arched an eyebrow at him, staring at his neck. 

"Gabriel...impressive." 

He looked down but couldn't see anything so he slid the lock screen on his phone to the camera. There were three dark purple marks spotted around his neck, two on the left side and one bigger mark on the right. 

Mickey rubbed his neck and tried to pull his shirt up higher. "How do you...nah I was, I just ran into something...like a uh..." Mickey stammered trying to find an excuse. 

"Yeah you ran into his lips" Mandy retorted. "Anyway I'm going over to Ian's soon to help decorate." 

Mickey froze with the spoon of cereal halfway to his mouth. "Decorate? For what?" 

She slapped him in the shoulder with her magazine. "Christmas dumbass! Just because we never do it doesn't mean there aren't normal people who actually like that shit." 

Mickey tipped the bowl into his mouth to gulp down the rest of the milk. "I wouldn't really call the Gallaghers normal but..." 

Mandy twirled a finger through Yevgeny's curls, his eyes glued to the mouse onscreen. "Good point. I would ask you to come but, ya know. Yeah. Is it okay if I take Yev?" 

"Sure." 

He took the boy out of Mandy's arms and sat him on his lap. "Hey bud! You're gonna go over and decorate a tree, hang some ornaments. That sound good?" 

Yevgeny squealed and took hold of the neckline of Mickey's shirt, tugging it into his mouth. Mickey reached over to a bag on the floor and dug for the small winter jacket crumpled up. 

"You're gonna need this. It's real cold out. Don't wanna freeze your toes off." He propped Yev up and helped him into the jacket. For some reason the zipper wouldn't budge and he fiddled with it until Mandy slapped his hand away and zipped it. 

"What is it with you and zippers? Jesus! You can hot-wire a car within 30 seconds but can't zip a jacket." 

"I'm a little out of practice at that actually" Mickey muttered. 

"Well that's reassuring I guess." Mandy grabbed the remote and turned the television off. She hoisted Yevgeny up and plucked the keys off the coffee table. 

"Alright time to go Yevvie!" 

"N-n-noooo! I love Mickey!" Yevgeny whined out in a gurgling voice. 

"I know, I know," Mandy said, "but we can watch him later okay? The TV will still be here when we get back."

Yevgeny shook his head and pointed determinedly at Mickey still sitting on the couch. "No! Mickey! I love Mickey!" 

Mandy made an _awwww-ing_ sound and covered her mouth. Mickey went over and kissed his curly head. 

"I'll be here when you get back too bud. Pinky promise." He took Yevgeny's pinky and curled his own around it. 

*

Carl dragged out yet another box from the closet and thumped it onto the ground. He blew the dust off and looked at the faded writing on the top. 

_'gallagher christmas shit' it said._

"Ian we get all the boxes?" he called from the living room. 

"Yeah!," he heard from upstairs, "that was the last one!" 

Ian hopped down the steps and met Carl in the living room. "Okay! Mandy should be here any minute and we'll start. Trust me she's good at this stuff. Our house could, like, win one of those neighborhood awards or something when we're done!" 

Carl coughed from the dust flying through the air. "Pretty sure if we hung a molded orange peel on our door we'd still win. No one even decorates on our street." 

"Well, maybe we can change that if everyone sees how good our house looks." Ian rubbed his hands together and went to bend down when the doorbell rung. 

He opened it to find Mandy and a certain familiar head of springy blonde hair in her arms. 

"Yev!" Ian shouted and opened his arms. 

"Thought I'd bring him with me! He wants to help decorate," Mandy said and entered the living room. 

Ian felt his eyes welling up with tears. He took the boy from Mandy and cradled him, staring down into his youthful eyes and bright dimples. God, he hadn't seen him for so long. He looked so much older now than when Ian could remember. 

Carl came over and nodded. "Hey Mandy." 

She did a double-take and looked from Ian back to Carl. "Jesus how long have I been gone! You look like a fucking man now!" 

Carl laughed and threw an arm around her back in a side hug. 

Ian heard the stairs creak and looked to see Debbie hustling down carrying Franny. "Hey Ian, hey Carl, hey Mandy, I'm going over to a friend's do you think you could watch Franny for me?" 

Mandy's mouth opened in confusion. 

"Yeah sure," Ian said and took the little girl from Debbie. The door shut on her way out and Ian turned in explanation to Mandy. "Uh...yeah. You've missed a lot." 

"Apparently" she responded and set Yevgeny down next to the baby. "Alright where's the tree?" 

Ian nodded to Carl. "Carl you got it right? Wanna bring it in?" 

Carl walked through the kitchen and out the back door, returning a few minutes later dragging in a mangled mess of branches and faded green pine needles. 

"What the...fuck?" Mandy exclaimed. "Where'd you get that thing? It's barely alive!" 

Carl huffed and finished dragging the sad excuse of a tree into the room. "Christmas tree places are a scam! Have you seen the dudes there? Sketchy as hell. They just want you to keep buying shit! So I figured it wouldn't be that hard just to cut one down myself." 

Ian slapped a hand over his face. "Jesus Carl!" 

Carl stood up and cracked his back. "Actually it's Jesus Christ, read a Bible you homosexual sinner." 

They all laughed and helped hoist the dying tree up into the tree stand. 

*

After about an hour of hanging ornaments with the occasional warning from Mandy that Yev was trying to eat one of the plastic decorations, there were only a few left in the box. 

Mandy picked up a small star-shaped one shoved in the corner under some bubble wrap. It had a picture in it of a bunch of kids lined up in two rows on their knees wearing uniforms. They had bright blue baseball caps on and white and blue striped shirts tucked in to their bright white pants. She squinted at the small inscription on the ornament. 

_'Lil Sluggers, Chicago, IL. 2004-2005.'_

"Hey" she called over to Ian who was hanging garland on the mantle. "Come over here. I'm pretty sure we have this exact picture at our house somewhere." 

Ian walked over and took the picture. He searched for his face and found it pretty quickly, among all the dark-haired boys there was one fiery splotch in the front row. 

"Oh yeah, that's me. Baseball team from when I was younger." 

"Hmmm. That's weird I feel like I've seen this exact photo in an album somewhere." 

Suddenly Ian remembered. A conversation from years and summers ago. _Nighttime, the buzzing of insects. The pat pat pat of sprinklers. The pack of cigarettes and popping of a beer can. The humidity churning in the sky. The huff of breaths. Casual conversation. Trying to be casual. Not too good at hiding it. His heart beating._

_"You heard about that?"_

_"I was playing second."_

He peered his eyes closer to the photo and found Mickey squatting next to him in the very middle of all the kids. Everyone was sitting on their knees but Mickey. Rebellious from the start, a small glare on his tiny pale face. 

Ian let out a long breath through his teeth. "It's cuz that's Mickey, right there. We were on the team together. Forgot about that." 

The side of Mandy's mouth raised in a smile. "That's cute." 

Carl took the ornament from her and hung it in the middle. "Good as it's gonna get." 

It actually didn't look that bad. They'd hung so many ornaments that the flashing colors and lights hid the fact that the tree could tip over or crumble into a heap of needles at any moment. 

He looked over at Ian. "So did you do it? Did you kiss Mickey?" 

Ian coughed in surprise and his eyes shot wide open. "What? Uh what? W-why are you asking? No!" 

Mandy whipped her head from Ian to Carl. "Am I missing something here?" 

Ian cleared his throated and glared at his brother. "No Carl just, he has a problem filtering his thoughts apparently. I don't even know what he's talking about." 

At that moment Mandy's phone rang and she dug for it in the purse beside Yevgeny. 

"Hey. Yeah. I'm at Ian's. What why? What-What the fuck Mickey? I told you-Yes I know that. Jesus Christ I hate you guys. Southshore docks. Got it. I'm on my way."

She hung up and groaned. 

"What's the matter?" Ian tried to keep his voice steady at the mention of Mickey. 

"What's the matter is my brothers are a bunch of halfbreed dumbasses and now I gotta go save their asses. Fucking Gabriel." 

Ian's head shot up at the name. "Gabriel? You don't-let me come with you!" he said a little too excitedly. 

"I mean I guess if you want. It's gonna be a shitshow I dunno why you would but..." 

Ian shook his head and grabbed a coat from the stairs. "No it's fine I'll come. Carl watch over Yev and Franny yeah?" 

They left and hustled out to Mandy's jeep. Mandy started the ignition and peeled out into the street. "Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time" by _Panic!_ was playing and she blared the volume.

"Fucking love this song" she muttered. 

Ian nodded in agreement. "Brendon Urie is an actual god. Okay but I should probably ask why we're going to the docks?" 

Mandy hummed along to the song and veered her car onto a backroad. 

"Here's the rundown. Keep in mind I have nothing to do with this and don't wanna be associated with it. But basically Mickey knows Gabriel pretty well and Gabriel offered our brothers a job. So obviously they were like hell yeah, and even when they found out it involved drugs it wasn't a big deal I mean have you met them? But okay so the guy running this whole thing is Tío. He's not Gabriel's actual uncle but I mean, he's basically family to him I guess."

Mandy paused to catch her breath and continued.

"So my brothers start doing some light selling and moving or whatever, no big deal. Come to find out a few weeks later before Gabriel or Mickey are even out, Tío owns like a huge fucking drug ring in the U.S. The kind that has like hundreds of people working for him across the country and stuff. So I told my brothers to back out but they didn't so now I have to deal with shit like this." 

Ian didn't speak for awhile, trying to absorb the information she'd just told him. 

"Mickey's not in it is he?" Ian finally said. 

Mandy shook her head. "Nah he's set on getting a legal job, thank god. Don't want him going back to prison a few weeks after getting let out. 

"How'd that even happen by the way? Why'd he get released?" 

Mandy shrugged. "Something happened with Sammi, that's all I know." 

Ian made a gagging noise. "Hate that cunt." 

"I could see that being her senior superlative," Mandy said, "cuntiest white trash bitch of Chicago."  
*  
*  
Mickey kicked the pavement as he made his way down to the docks. He couldn't believe his brothers. He was lounging in his bed trying to write when his phone had buzzed on the sheets. For a split second Mickey thought it was Ian, calling to talk about what happened or to just figure something out. Instead he'd answered to a frantic Iggy on the other line. 

_"Yo Mick, you gotta get down here. Southshore docks."_

_"What the fuck happened?"_

_"Just move your ass! C'mon!"_

Mickey had bolted out the door and was now halfway there when he remembered he forgot his gun. _Fuck._ If it got messy, he didn't have anything on him. His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket.

_Gabriel, 12:32 p.m.  
everything good? _

Mickey hesitated before texting back a thumbs up emoji. Gabriel's text reminded him of yesterday when he went over to talk to him. 

He'd opened the door to the apartment without knocking, Gabriel never locked it. "Hey!" Mickey had shouted, but he didn't hear a reply. He walked into the living room to find Gabriel blasting music and lifting weights, screaming out the lyrics to whatever song was playing. 

Gabriel paused the music and glanced over. "Yo I was gonna text you when I was done and-" 

"Save it" Mickey interrupted him. "We need to talk. Take out the headphones." 

Gabriel complied and walked over to rub a sweaty hand on Mickey's shoulder. "Sure, what's up?" 

"What's up?" Mickey asked incredulously. "Not Ian for sure after you beat his ass unconscious!" 

The man looked down sheepishly. "Yeah I uh, I'm sorry about that. Got a little heated." 

Mickey swatted his hand away and stared at him with a stoic glare. "That what you call heated? Then I sure as hell don't wanna see you when you're angry. Or at all. Maybe I don't wanna see you at all." 

Gabriel looked up and shook his head, beads of sweat flying off his hair. "Nah, come on vato don't be like that. You know how I get." 

"Actually I don't. I really don't. Cuz that was a first for me seeing you have an apocalyptic fit onstage then almost kill my b-," Mickey paused and corrected himself, "kill Ian!" 

"Arright maybe that's true. Look I'm sorry okay? I'm working through some anger issues. I've got some...problems." 

Mickey sighed as Gabriel headed to his bedroom. 

"At least he didn't die." 

At that Mickey clenched his jaw and followed him into the room. "The fuck did you just say?" Mickey asked. 

Gabriel turned in surprise when he passed through the doorway. "What? Nothing I was just saying he didn't die, ay dios mio Mickey." 

"Oh so, you're the one who picked up his body then? You're the one who looked at his face up close and saw his fucking eyes covered in blood? You're the one who saw the bruises on his neck? No! I thought he was dead Gabriel! He could've fucking died! What were you thinking!" 

Mickey had his fists clenched, his eyes boring into Gabriel's. Gabriel raised his hands and backed up toward the window a bit. 

"Like I said, I wasn't. I wasn't thinking. It's a problem okay? I'm working on it." 

Mickey stepped closer, challenging the man to back up even farther. "Well," he whispered with a dangerous harshness, "work on it. Without beating up. Ian. Got it?" 

Gabriel slid a hand into his back pocket. If Ian hadn't drawn the curtain in by now, he would've seen something glint off the window from behind Gabriel. 

"That's close enough" Gabriel replied calmly. "I got it." 

Mickey crossed his arms and turned to leave, but then looked back. "Good. So let's get one thing crystal clear. No one. Touches. Ian. If I see a mark on him again, I'll fucking kill you," he said plainly and left without another word. 

*

Mickey's phone rang. "Yo I'm almost there." 

"Yeah well turn around" Mandy said on the other line. 

He turned to see her jeep whipping around the corner and speeding down the street he was on. She pulled up beside him with Ian in the passenger seat. 

Mandy grinned. "Need a ride?" 

He went to open the backdoor and she tapped her foot on the gas so the handle moved just out of his reach. Mickey could hear Ian laugh from inside the car. 

"Yeah keep laughing, Gallagher." 

Mickey quickly hopped in before Mandy could tease him again and eyed Ian. They looked at each other and Mickey smirked. Ian tried not to stare too hard at the dark circles on his neck. He felt his cheeks heating up. He'd done that.

"The fuck's he doing here?" 

_"He,"_ Ian said pointedly, "wanted to come in case there was trouble." 

"Oh? You sure you ain't bringing the trouble by coming?" 

"Anyways," Mandy said interrupting the moment. "Can you tell me what's going on?" 

"Look we gotta get there before one of 'em does something stupid so just drive." 

Ian turned around. "Damn, bossy much?" 

"Dilo otra vez y te hago tragar tu verga" Mickey muttered out. 

Mandy and Ian both looked at him with their eyebrows arched. 

"What? Learned some Spanish in the joint. Nothing much else to do in there but work out and learn foreign languages." 

Mandy rolled her eyes and put the car into drive. 

*

The Southshore docks consisted of a muddy port of water surrounded by a gravel walkway and some old, stranded boats. When they pulled up Mickey saw Iggy and Jaime looking over into one of the boats leaned against a small shack. Joey and Colin were arguing a few feet away and glanced over when the jeep's wheels cracked on the rocks. 

Mickey jumped out and strode toward Iggy since he'd been the one who called him. "So which one of you fuckers lost the shit?" 

Iggy held his hands up. "Mick I swear it was here. It's the exact address they gave us. Said it'd be in the Walkaround and this is the only one of those types here. It's got the blue stripes on the side and everything." 

Mickey peered over the side and saw a few cushions and an empty bottom. "You check in the seats and everything?" 

Iggy scratched his head. "Yup. Nothin'." 

Ian and Mandy were still in the car. Ian leaned over while he watched Mickey sweep around the boat. 

"Thought you said something about Gabriel." 

Mandy returned his look. "Yeah I did. But he's not here thank god." 

Mickey stood up and squinted into the bright sky, drawing his tongue across the inside of his gum. "Well it's official. Write your will now boys because we're about to be lined up and shot down by a firing squad." 

Jaime threw his hands in the air. "It's not our fucking fault Mick! It just ain't here! Plain and simple!" 

Mickey stalked over to him and met his eyes. "Yeah, we know that. We know that. But are _they_ gonna know that? You think Tío's just gonna take our word that the biggest shipment he's ever had in fucking Chicago just, disappeared? Like that? Poof? Fuck no. He's gonna have us murdered before the next time you can jack off." 

"Can't you just talk to Gabriel? He can talk to Tío and make him understand" Iggy said with a hand on his face. 

"Yeah sure. I'll tell Gabriel, he'll tell Tío, and then instead of just you guys dying he'll just hire a hitman for all of us! Sounds good! Fucking brilliant Iggy, Jesus." 

Ian saw the situation heating up and decided to get out of the car. Iggy registered him for the first time and gestured his head in annoyance. 

"Aw man, really? What's with this bitch showing up everywhere?" 

Mickey turned around and pointed at him. "Oh well, Nancy Drew here wanted to help us in case there was any trouble! So who did it Ian? Who snatched the shit?" 

Ian drug his shoe along the gravel and lowered his head in a shrug. "I dunno. Isn't it kinda dumb to hide drugs in a boat on public property? Could've been anyone." 

"Yeah well it's worked out for them for the past 10 years without any problems until these idiots show up 20 minutes late and the shit's gone!," Mickey said whipping around to look at all of his brothers. 

He took a breath to calm himself down. "I'll talk to Gabriel. In the meantime get the leftovers from the shack, the key's in the car. That'll make up for about 2 ounces of what you've gotta sell." 

"And after that?" Jaime asked. 

Mickey started walking back toward the jeep. "After that you better sleep with a Luger under your pillow and a Bible in your hand."  
*  
*  
Ian woke up the next morning to the blaring alarm on his phone. He smashed the snooze option and rolled out of bed. To his surprise Carl was standing in the room with a plate of cinnamon rolls. 

"So did you?" 

Ian rubbed his eyes and yawned. "What?" he mumbled, barely awake. 

"Did you kiss him?" Carl said and popped a cinnamon roll in his mouth. 

"The...fuck why are we still talking about this? I just woke up man." 

"Yeah so it's perfect timing. I gotta ask you stuff when you're most likely to answer personal questions and I read online it's when you just wake up." 

Ian pulled on his work pants and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "That's creepy dude. Like really creepy. Okay but you've asked like five times in the past day." 

"Yeah and you haven't answered five times in the past day." 

He looked at Carl stuffing his face with the pastries. Might as well tell him, no harm right? 

"Yeah," Ian said with a sigh. "Yeah I did. Don't tell anyone though. Especially Lip. Got it?" 

Carl smiled and fist punched him. "Hell yeah dude. Was it good? Like...good?" 

"Get out. I gotta get ready for work. Remember, Lip hears none of this right?" 

Carl saluted him and left the room.

 

Ian grabbed the last cinnamon roll from the table and headed outside. More snowflakes were falling down and covering the shoveled roads. He found Monica in the front yard sitting crisscross on a patch of grass. Her eyes were closed and her face was slack. 

"Uh...whatcha doing mom?" 

She opened her eyes. "Meditating. Wanna join me?" she asked through a smile. 

"Can't, gotta get to work. Later though?" Ian reassured her and opened the gate to leave. 

*

There were only a few people working today. Sue was in her office filing some paperwork when Ian came in. 

"Hey, got anything for me today?" 

She straightened up with a stack of the papers in hand. "Nah nothing yet, you can work on some of this until we get a call or something." 

He sat down with a pen and started going through the endless stacks of papers. It was a hard job, being an EMT. But Ian loved it. He loved the feeling of riding in the car and finding something to do. He loved helping people, whether their problems were on the outside or inside. It felt freeing, like he was part of something big. Not just about himself. He was like a secret superhero. No one knew who he was when he looked into their faces, but he felt their gratitude, and that was enough. 

Helping others who couldn't control what was happening to them. Something he wished he had growing up. Sure his family was there, but were they really? Was it even possible? For them to be fully there for him with so many other problems going on? Sometimes he felt the distance between them. Sometimes he wondered about his dad, his real dad. Out there somewhere. Maybe he'd moved and didn't even live near them anymore. He wondered if his dad thought about him ever. 

Ian heard the alarm go off that signaled an emergency and he quickly dropped the pen. 

Sue stuck her head in. "Drexel. Schizophrenic. Possible injuries. Let's go." 

Ian grabbed the bag in his locker and jumped into the back of the EMS. 

 

When they got to the street, Ian could see a large crowd surrounding one of the rundown houses littered with glass and other trash. Sue parked and they hopped out, closing the distance between themselves and the crowd. 

"What's going on?" Ian shouted to a woman standing close to him. 

She whipped around and pointed to the top of the house. 

He looked up to see a young African American woman teetering on the shingles of the roof. 

"They're coming!" she screamed and swayed her arms in the wind. "They're close!" 

Ian looked at Sue. He'd never dealt with anything like this, usually they only got calls about injuries that had already happened. 

"Ian, there's a ladder in the back of the car stored under the gurney. Get it and set it up without her seeing," Sue said without taking her eyes off the woman. 

Ian retrieved the ladder and slunk along the side of the house just under the roof where she couldn't see him. He leaned the ladder slowly forward so it tapped the gutter of the roof and started climbing. 

When he got to the top he peered over to find the woman with her back turned toward him. 

"They're here" she whispered and leaned backward, causing a panicked storm of shrieks to escape from below him. Ian lurched forward and grabbed the gutter with one hand to steady himself while he braced his other arm for the pressure of her body. They both jerked backward when her back hit his arm and he used the force of it to step down a rung into a more stable footing. 

He squeezed the flailing woman by her stomach as he descended the ladder through strangled breathes. When he got to the third rung from the bottom, he let his tired arm release her into the crowd who had swelled up around him. She sank to the ground and Ian bent forward, completely drained from the quick and focused effort. 

Sue clapped him on the back. "Better get her to a hospital so they can find out what to do from there. Good job man." 

He bent down and picked the woman up who wasn't fighting anymore. Several people in the crowd thanked him and he returned their smiles before entering the back of the EMS. He strapped her down to the gurney like Sue had shown him and the vehicle started moving. 

The woman didn't move for a few minutes, just stared up at Ian with wide, fearful eyes. "They're gonna get me!" she suddenly shouted. 

Ian rubbed her shoulder. "Hang tight, you're gonna be fine. Can I ask your name?" 

"Noelle" she said. 

"Alright Noelle, you're safe here. With me. Can you tell me about your family? Last happy memory? Anything?" 

"I don't remember" she groaned out. "They stole my memories and they're gonna steal me now. They're following us. We gotta get out!" 

Ian started humming and glancing at Sue through the rear view mirror to see if she was going to offer any advice, but her eyes were focused ahead. 

"Tell me about yourself Noelle." 

Her eyes closed and when she opened them a tear streaked down her face. "There's a puddle near my house. Pass it everyday walking. And there's this damn cloud above it. 'Cept the thing is, sometimes the cloud don't even rain. Just sits there. But the puddle's still there. How d'you figure that?" 

Ian searched her face and thought about it. "Maybe the puddle just works on its own? Or...maybe the puddle just needs the cloud to be there for it? So it can keep staying there? That's not asking much I guess, but maybe it's just how it works." 

The woman nodded and started crying. "Please take these off. They're getting so close, I'm so scared. I can't think with these straps hurting me." 

Ian hesitated and glanced back at Sue. "We're not really...we can't do that. Gotta keep the straps on." 

"Please," Noelle whispered, "please. They hurt. It hurts." 

Ian touched her arm. "I know. Demons have been after me before too." 

Her eyes pleaded with him and he gave in. He slowly unstrapped the restraints and held a hand on her shoulder as their bodies jolted on the bumpy road. 

"Thank you" she said and moved forward before Ian could react. She flew straight into the door and burst it open, tumbling out and into the street. The car behind them slammed on their breaks and Ian heard a squeal and a hard thump. 

He didn't know he was screaming until suddenly the noise filled his ears. 

_"STOP THE CAR!"_

The EMS jerked to a halt and Ian stumbled out into the road. 

Her body was limp on the ground. Her face turned toward the sky. A trickle of blood slinking down her cheek into the crease of her neck. Her hands splayed onto the road evenly beside her at chest level. Eyes open. Toward the weak sun struggling in the clouds. Snowflakes falling onto her chest and arms and hair. 

Sue ran over and bent down. Ian heard her voice but didn't hear the words. Her fingers were pressed to the woman's neck and chest and then wrists. 

The driver of the car beside him.  
Sue beside him.  
The woman beside him passing by. Horizontally on a stretcher.  
People beside him.  
Words uttered.  
Heads nodded.  
And himself.  
Standing there.  
But not there, not there.  
He was home. Holding a cinnamon roll before this had happened.  
He was standing at the puddle,  
looking up at that cloud.  
He was at the Milkoviches in that bed, hearts breathing. Hearts breathing.  
He was at the club, but not onstage.  
Just in the crowd. A nobody. Lost among the throng of faceless men.  
Wanting what everyone wanted.  
Touch, feeling, fluttering, appreciation, salvation.  
But now he was stumbling off the road.  
*  
*  
Mickey was at the dining room table. He sat at the head of it surrounded by his brothers and Mandy, Svetlana, Yevgeny. They'd just sat down to eat dinner. Mandy had made chicken pot pie and Svetlana had brought over some sweet potato fries and a chocolate pecan pie. It was new having Svetlana over for dinner. 

Actually, it was even new for him to have dinner with his own family. At least three of them were usually out somewhere and they all scrounged what they could get to escape to their bedrooms and eat alone. 

"Chicken's really good Mandy" Mickey said, breaking the silence in the room. 

"Thanks. Can't wait to try the pie, Svet." 

Svetlana smirked and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "New recipe. I think it's my best yet." 

The silence ensued after that for a bit longer until Mandy put down her fork. She adjusted the collar of her rose pink dress shirt and cleared her throat. 

"Well I guess I should just say it. No point in not. Uh, I'm bisexual." 

Mickey arched his eyebrows and kept chewing a handful of sweet potato fries. 

Iggy snickered. "And Mickey's a flaming homosexual who likes dicks shoved down his throat. Any more shocking news flashes?" 

Mickey nudged some peas onto his plastic spoon and pulled it back with a finger, sending the peas flying into Iggy's face. 

Next to him Yevgeny giggled and smushed his own peas under his hand. 

Mandy looked from Mickey to Iggy. "What? You already knew?" 

"Please," Mickey retorted, "all you talk about is Megan Fox or that black-haired girl from _Orange is the New Black._ They're like, gay flypaper." 

Svetlana shrugged in agreement and went to clear the table. 

"Well I...well, I mean I..." Mandy began stuttering out. 

Mickey reached over and took her hand in his. "It's not a big deal. We love you. Unless you want it to be a big deal, I mean we have poster board. We can write a sign and shit, hang it on the porch just so all the hot girls know where to go." 

Mandy laughed giddily and got up. "Damn it feels good that Terry's dead!" 

Mickey raised his glass. "I can toast to that!" 

*

He was outside throwing the new batch of gifts for his dad away after dinner when his phone buzzed. He looked at the caller. _Ian._

Mickey slid the home button and held a hand to his cheek. 

"Hello?" 

"Mickey." 

"What's...whatsup?" 

"I fucked up." 

Mickey didn't know how to react. "What happened?" 

Ian's voice sounded hoarse and detached on the other end. "Please just...I don't fucking know where to go I don't know what to do I just, I dunno. I'm at the baseball field." 

The line clicked and Mickey slowly lowered the phone from his ear. His legs were shaking as he closed the trash can and walked down the middle of the street. 

3 blocks,  
2 blocks,  
1 block. 

He could see the familiar chain link fence enclosing the grassy field. The sun was setting. It was getting cold out. Mickey climbed the fence at his usual spot and hopped over the dugout roof into the area where the bench sat. He squinted at the baseball diamond a few yards away where the grass stopped and the clay took over. 

He saw Ian sitting in the middle of the clay on home plate, face up toward the sky, his fingers held out to the sides of him. Mickey wandered over and stopped a few feet away. Ian's eyes were still closed. 

"The hell are you doing?" 

"Meditating," Ian responded without opening his eyes. 

"On what?" 

Ian breathed out. "What do you mean?" 

"What are you meditating on?" Mickey asked. 

"Life, I guess." 

Mickey nodded and sat down, still a few feet away but close enough to see the marks of amber clay staining his face. Ian opened his eyes and they looked at each other. 

"I killed someone. Today" he said simply. 

Mickey looked up at a cloud lazily wandering through the air. "How?" 

Ian's hands stayed perfectly still and he looked up at the cloud too. "Got her down from a roof. Strapped her down. But she wanted out and I...I let her. Unstrapped her and she jumped out. Hit a car." 

Mickey looked at him now. He really was beautiful. Everything about him. Inside, outside, everywhere, every corner of him. Even the stains on his face. They just absorbed into him, unaffected. 

"I'm sorry" Mickey croaked out. "There's...not much else I can say. I don't know what to say to you. Ever, actually. Don't know what you're thinking." 

Ian's mouth twitched and a tear rolled down into the crease of his nose. It mingled with the clay and left a light mark as it meandered down the rest of his face. More tears started streaming out and his body was shaking and he still, god, he was still in that stupid yoga pose with his arms out. Shaking. 

Mickey crawled toward him, dragging his legs through the reddish dirt. He put his arms around Ian and latched them tightly around his trembling back. Ian's hands automatically copied his and he felt their pressure around him. 

Mickey nuzzled his eyes and cheeks into Ian's collarbone. He pressed his lips to the skin, still the light purple bruises fading under his touch. Ian sobbed into him and leaned his head over Mickey's shoulder. Mickey drew his right hand over Ian's neck and into his hair, ruffling his hair as his hand moved up and down slowly. Softly. 

Ian gasped for air between sobs and collapsed fully into Mickey. His body was tired, he was tired. 

Mickey held his limp body and let him cry until he stilled finally, the occasional small tremble ripping through them both. 

Mickey glanced behind Ian's back to see a pack of beers sitting amid a muddy puddle intermixed in the clay. He reached over and grabbed one, popping the top off with one fingernail. 

Ian sat up and looked at it before laying down on the ground. 

"What was her name?" Mickey finally asked to the silence and the darkening sky. 

"Noelle" Ian whispered back. 

"Well, this one's for Noelle. And all the Noelles. In the whole damn world." Mickey raised the beer to his lips and chugged it down, concentrating on the twinkles in the sky. 

He finished and chucked it as hard as he could across the field to second base. He collapsed next to Ian and looked over. His side profile lit up, the soft angles of his nose and jawline. 

"You didn't kill her, Ian. You were just doing your job. Shit happens. You're human." 

Ian coughed and squeezed his eyes to keep the tears back. "I don't care. Felt like it. I was supposed to be there for her and I...I let her down. Just like you. I never-" 

"You never fucking visited me" Mickey breathed out. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. 

Ian looked over and back up. 

_Airplane humming. Sprinklers rutting. A streetlight somewhere buzzing._

"It was hard, seeing you. Through the glass. I should've. Should've seen you. Been with you. Made it right." He paused. "I feel like it's too late now. For some reason. Like you've moved on without me." 

Mickey laughed and tilted his face to stare at him. "You're the one with the boyfriend. Got it all together, new guy, new job, new life." 

"It's not the same," Ian said. 

_Silence. Cicadas droning. Stars twinkling. Cold slicing._

Mickey's breath finally came out in a ragged question. "You ever...think about me? When I was in the joint?" 

_Silence. Silence. Silence. Gunshot somewhere._

"A lot," Ian finally replied after awhile. 

Mickey's chest rose and fell. He searched for the moon. "Fuck I missed you." 

He didn't know what else to say, didn't know how else to comfort Ian. So he just laid next to him and hoped the words escaped somehow. 

"You should get home, Ian. Family's probably worried about you." 

Ian waved a hand in the air. "They don't care. I could be gone for a week and they wouldn't notice." 

"I think," Mickey uttered out slowly, "I think they do care. In their own way. Guess everyone shows it different. They're still there for you at least." 

"Maybe. Just wish I didn't feel so...distant from them. Like sometimes I don't wanna tell them things. I mean, you had my back more than they ever did. I know, I know I can trust you." 

Ian scooted closer at that moment and touched Mickey's jawline, tilting his face to the right so their eyes met. Ian leaned in, closed his eyes, breathed, and felt something pull his hand away. 

He opened his eyes to Mickey pushing backward, avoiding Ian's touch. 

"Ian I uh, I don't think we can do this." 

Ian stood up at that and looked down at him still laying on the ground. "What's stopping us?" 

Mickey struggled to get up too and brushed the clay from his pants. "Me, this, us, everything. I'm just...not ready." 

Ian clenched his jaw. "Oh but you're ready with Gabriel right? You're ready to have him all over you? But not me? Let me guess, it's just different now. People change and I missed my shot I guess right?" 

"I'm not, Jesus, it's different with Gabriel! Okay? We don't have any history to go back through or worry about. It's just...simpler." 

Ian shook his head and looked over at the dugout where he used to do pull-ups. He felt the tears coming. _Fuck, the last thing he wanted to do was start crying again._

Mickey moved closer and put an arm on Ian's shoulder. "Can't I just comfort you? For right now? Can't we just start off slow?" 

"Yeah I guess sucking your dick is starting off real slow" Ian shot back. 

"Okay. That was a mistake." 

Ian looked at the arm on his shoulder and back up at Mickey's face. "Get off me" he said, taking Mickey by surprise. 

"Get off of me. Get the fuck off me! I don't-I can't do this! I can't touch you! Not like this! Not if we can't start over! All I wanna do right now is push you on the ground and kiss you so if you don't want that, just...please. Leave. Shouldn't have called you." 

Mickey dropped his hand and crouched down to pick up the pack of beers. "I'm sorry" he said before walking away and climbing the fence. 

Ian watched his outline blur and disappear over the fence before sitting down again. 

Mickey found a picnic table close to the field and hunched down onto the top of it. He popped open beer after beer and watched the small figure of Ian on the ground as he downed the drinks. He didn't know what to do. 

He felt trapped and didn't want to make a mistake but maybe he'd just made one and now it was really over and he really fucked up this time and what if this was it and maybe he should go back over and, god, he was scared. 

 

Mickey didn't have a watch but after five beers were crumpled on the ground and the field was spinning, he stumbled to his feet. He wasn't sure if it was just his vision messing up, but it looked like Ian was gone. 

_Oh god, oh god, Ian was gone._

Mickey felt to make sure the phone was still in his pocket before staggering home, occasionally kicking a glass bottle or a pack of empty cigarettes. 

He jostled the doorhandle to his house, he couldn't remember which way the handle turned. It finally gave in and Mickey hobbled in. He headed toward the couch and his foot connected with a bag on the ground, sending him flying onto the floor. 

A door from the hallway opened and Mandy rushed out with a shovel in hand, ready to take down whoever'd just barged in. She halted at the sight of Mickey sprawled on the ground and bent down next to him. 

"Mick, you okay? You drunk? God, I can smell it from here. What happened to you?" 

Mickey sat up and leaned back into the side of the couch. He wiped his nose. That damn fall somehow squeezed a few annoying tears out of his eyes. Mickey's nose ran and he wiped it again. 

Mandy grabbed a tissue and held it to his nose, commanding him to blow. 

He blew out and more tears started rushing down his face in a hurry to reach his neck. 

"I fucked up. Again. I fucked up a bunch," he slurred out. "Can't ever get a damn thing right." 

Mandy touched his face and tried to brush the clay rubbed all over his shirt and pants. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mickey began rambling in a slurred speech, his eyes wandering aimlessly around the room.

"Say you're in the fucking woods right? Say you're in the woods and...and a fucking, a fucking lightning bolt comes down and strikes the tree. Fuckin' obliterated. Tree's gone, there's a fuckin' stump left. It's charred and shit ya know? 

So say the fuckin' lightning bolt shocks the tree...and fuckin' rips it open, tears it limb to limb. Do you feel sorry for the...the fuckin' tree? Cuz it just got broken? Right there, fuckin' held together one minute and then the next it's just...fuckin' gone? Or do you feel sorry for the lightning bolt... the damn lightning bolt. 

Cuz it waisted all its energy on this fucking tree that couldn't even stand on its own in the end? You know? Who the fuck do you feel sorry for?" 

Mickey slumped over, his energy exhausted from talking for so long. 

"Oh Mickey," Mandy sighed out. "Never gonna learn."


	9. What's Going On?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late upload everyone!

"Fuck," Mickey breathed out and grabbed the bedpost. 

Ian exhaled into his shoulder muscles as he thrust in slowly. "Want it harder?" he gasped out into his ear. 

Mickey turned his face to the side, pressed roughly into the covers. "Seem pretty hard to me, Gallagher." 

Ian mustered a sound of annoyance and answered by speeding up the pace. His forearms held fast into the sheets beside Mickey's mussed hair. Ian liked to hear the sounds up close. At this distance, with his face compressed against Mickey's back, he could hear each groan rip through the throat of the man under him and escape into the hot air of the room. 

Mickey bit back a cry while Ian thrust harder. He moved their bodies to the thumping rhythm of a song somewhere far off, vibrating through the springs in the bed. Ian panted and moved his lips upward toward the place where Mickey's pastel skin mixed with the deep shading of his hair. The grey area, one of many. 

"What about Gabriel?" Ian murmured into Mickey's hair. Breathless. 

"You know the answer, Ian." His words came out surprisingly calm and unaffected by the situation. 

"No I don't." 

Mickey dug his nails into the side of the bed. "Fuck him." 

"Yeah see that's the problem-" Ian's train of thought was cut off by a rippling shudder through his spine. The muscles in Mickey's back trembled as well. "Let's not fuck him" he managed to get out before ushering three more measured pushes of his hips. 

Ian breathed in but felt the air in his nose begin to burn. A stinging rose in his eyes and sent tears dripping over onto his cheeks. He sucked in the foggy air and coughed it back out into Mickey's chest. Somehow the man had flipped over and was now staring at Ian. 

Mickey's lips parted, cheeks tinged with rose blood and pleasure. More of the rose water leaked out of his blue eyes, running down into the marred tattoo set in his sternum. It intermixed and clung to each looping letter. The black writing cracked and dissipated, leaving a puddle of now deep red blood blooming on his chest. 

Ian dipped his finger in it as a scream ripped through Mickey's lungs. Ian looked down at his finger and saw his own, distorted face reflected in the blood. He opened his mouth to say something but choked on the warm substance dribbling from his own mouth. It dripped down onto Mickey's chest and absorbed with the rest of the blood. 

"You know we'll have to talk about this eventually, Ian," Mickey's voice said through the screaming, somehow with his mouth still barely open. 

Ian's vision blurred along with his name burned into Mickey's skin. He let out a last, weak cough filled with the strangling smoke in the room before opening his eyes to light. 

Lip's face came into focus above him. He had a cigarette between his lips, puffing smoke into Ian's bed. "You know that right?" Lip repeated. 

Ian sat up and blinked furiously. "Can you not breathe that right into my face please?" 

Lip stepped back. "Oh right, sorry." 

Ian squinted around the room and saw that the curtain on his window was wide open. It didn't look like morning with the sun right overhead in the middle of the sky. Music blasted from the street down below. He touched a hand to his chest trying to slow down the pounding of his heart. He sat up and his hand felt something wet under the covers. He frantically checked it, prepared to see the red hue from his dream, but it wasn't blood. 

"Uh, I'll be down in a sec" he muttered. "What time is it?" 

Lip twirled the cigarette around in his finger. "Past noon. I dunno when you got in last night though. Sue called this morning." 

Ian collapsed back down with a sigh. "I was supposed to be in this morning at like 9." 

"She said you could take a few days off. Checked with the boss, he said it was fine." 

Ian nodded, not bothering to make eye contact with Lip. 

"Well, get ready and come down. You're probably starving." Lip patted his leg under the covers and shut the door on the way out. 

Ian checked his fingertips for any traces of the disturbing dream, but his skin was clean. He wiped off the covers as best as he could before stripping them off the bed to throw in the washer. _Man,_ he thought, _that hadn't happened in awhile._ He'd probably have to get used to it considering the fact that Mickey had basically rejected him. That was probably the closest Ian was ever going to get to fucking Mickey again. _Shit, at least it felt real._

The blood at the end though, what the fuck? It gave Ian the shudders, thinking of something bad happening to Mickey. He still couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriel was bad news. Besides the fact that he'd almost killed Ian, him being involved with his uncle's drug shit didn't bode well for the Milkovich brothers. At least Mickey seemed to be staying away from it as far as Ian could tell. He hoped it stayed that way. 

Ian threw on some joggers and a plain white shirt before heading downstairs. He hadn't really planned out what he was going to say about the accident. No more crying, that's all he knew for sure. There were enough tears on the baseball field to rain out the game today. 

Fiona seemed to be in a heated phone call when he sat down at the table. "No I'm- No it's fucking not! Oh don't give me that bullshit. Well fuck Augustus! I don't give a shit, I got a job you know, in case you forgot. If you call this number again I'm reporting harassment to the police. About a fucking block that way, that's all it'd take. Fuck you too." 

She slammed the phone down and swore again. 

"Was that the uh, town priest?" Ian joked half-heartedly. "Gonna have to put about 10 bucks in the swear jar after that." 

"Yeah well, you have a deal if that shithead calls again." 

Ian stared at the scrambled eggs in the middle of the table. "Who was it?" 

"Fucking Jimmy! Or steve, whatever. Who knows what he's going by now. Said he's in some trouble and needs to meet me right away. Something about arranging a job for me in Bolivia. Can you believe him?" 

Ian cocked his head. "Bolivia? The fuck's in Bolivia?" 

Fiona sighed and sat down on the bench at the table. "No idea. If he comes over you know where the bat is right?" 

Ian nodded and she continued. "That's not important right now though. Sue called me this morning. She told me what happened." 

Ian seemed to be really interested in the eggs all of a sudden. "Needs some salt" he muttered and got up. He felt trapped by Fiona at the table. Embarrassment and guilt washed over him. 

"Listen Ian, it wasn't your fault okay?" 

"Yeah that's what everyone keeps saying! Why do I keep hearing that? It was my fucking fault!," Ian snapped. 

"Who keeps saying that? It hasn't even been a day and you've been asleep. You talked to someone about it?" Fiona asked. 

Ian closed his eyes and debated on the response. What to tell her, how to word it, what was too much to say. "Uh...Mickey." 

Fiona dropped the fork she was holding and got up. "Mickey Milkovich? Since when do you talk to him?" 

"Since he got out of prison a few weeks ago. Listen I know you've been busy so I guess the conversation just didn't come up." 

Fiona laughed in surprise, her eyebrows drawing up and back down. "Oh well, yeah, I guess it's not a big deal that your ex boyfriend's out of the slammer and probably knocking on our door every waking hour." 

Ian snorted at that. Yeah, he fucking wished. "More like the opposite. He won't even talk to me. Well I mean we've talked but...not about what I wanna talk about. He's kinda shutting me out." 

"Probably a good thing" Fiona retorted. "Don't wanna rehash all that shit, you know?" 

Ian crossed his arms in resignation and mild annoyance. "I'll do what I want." 

She looked up at him and nodded slowly, as if it had just dawned on her that they weren't on the same page regarding that situation. "Alright well, I do wanna talk about yesterday. We can't just brush over it, Ian." 

"I'm not trying to I just, I don't know what to say. It fucking sucks for me right now. Knowing that happened and I could've stopped it." 

She nodded again and looked down. "Well, I'm in no place to judge you considering the shit I've done. You were trying to save her alright? It was an impulsive decision but, god, haven't we all made those? You're a good person, Ian. I'm not telling you to get over it this quickly, but at the same time you can't let it eat at you for too long right? It's what we've all gotta do. Mourn and move on." 

Throughout Fiona's lecturing Ian had been slowly scrolling through his messages and was now looking at Mickey's contact name. He started typing, his thumb lazily moving across the keys until a text popped up. 

_Trevor, 1:32 p.m.  
Party tonight? _

_Ah, fuck it,_ Ian thought. Why not? Mickey sure as hell wasn't talking to him. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes in an effort to drown out Fiona's babbling. Well, Mickey might've been talking to him, but not how Ian wanted it. 

He wanted that heat back, the love that made them both feel like they were floating in a current until it eventually submerged their bodies. Together in the water, arms flailing and feet sinking, sinking until they found each other's hands and rose to the surface again. Exhausting but healing, a rebirth each time Ian ran his hand along Mickey's lower back. 

But now it was like they were stagnant in a muddy pond somewhere. With Mickey not quite shutting him out, but also not letting Ian in. 

He looked back down at the text and sent back a quick _'Yeah, what time? And where?'_

"Ian? Are you listening to me?" Fiona's voice interrupted him. 

"Yeah sorry it's just...hard to talk about. You're right, I'll move on eventually. I mean there's not much to say." 

Fiona smiled sadly at him. "Well if you need to say something, say it. I'll listen." 

"There was this thing." Ian tapped his finger on the table in thought. "There was this thing about a puddle and a cloud. I can't really remember what she said. Noelle, that was her name, what Noelle said. It was like a story, about a puddle that stayed on the ground even though it stopped raining a long time ago. It just kinda sat there. That's what she said had happened, yeah." 

Fiona scooped some eggs off the plate and ladled them onto her own. "Hmmm. Seems like she was imagining that." 

Ian shrugged. "Could've been. But maybe it's out there somewhere. If I find it I'm gonna think of her." 

Before Fiona could respond, Monica burst in through the front door and slumped into a chair. "Man that's exhausting." 

Ian passed the eggs to her. "What is?" 

"Yoga. And teaching it. You know that one guy in the karate movie? How the fuck does he do that all day?" 

Ian's mouth turned up playfully. "Wow there's so much wrong with that sentence mom. Okay first off that movie's about, well, karate, like you just said. Not yoga. And second off what do you mean by teaching it? You setting up a 30 second yoga drive-thru in our front yard or something?" 

Fiona peeled the curtain on the window back and groaned. "Monica what the hell are you doing? There's like, 20 people sitting in our yard. It looks like one of those weird silent protests that ends in us having to bring out lemonade to keep 'em going." 

Monica forked an egg finally in success and popped it into her mouth. "That's the word I'm looking for Fiona! It is a protest! It's a protest against God for fucking us all over! You know what? Throw in Moses and the whale guy! We're protesting them all!" 

"Jesus, you're fucked" Ian said shaking his head. Monica patted him on the shoulder. 

"Yes he is, Ian. Almost forgot that one. We're not taking their utter disregard for us anymore, you know? It's bad enough with the government turning all directions against us, but now we got the big guy to worry about too? Something's gotta change." 

Fiona made a face at her. "Shouldn't you be, like, praying even more or some shit now? Isn't that what dying people do? It's like you wanna speed it up, Monica." 

"Anyways-," Ian said interrupting the fight that was brewing, "I was planning on going to the Navy Pier later with Mandy and Carl. Wanna come mom?" 

"Sure. Give me about an hour and three Bibles." She rummaged around the kitchen until apparently giving up. "We have any?" 

Ian and Fiona exchanged looks and he cleared his throat. "Does it really look like we'd have any?" 

"You're right. I'm gonna head over to Kev and V's. She has kids right? Must have a Bible somewhere in her house." 

Ian was about to point out how that reasoning made absolutely no sense, but decided against it when he saw the determined look on his mom's face. 

"You really invited Monica to go with you guys? Why?" Fiona asked when she'd left. 

Ian tried to keep his voice steady. Something about Fiona with Monica bothered him, like she held on to every little thing their mom had done and didn't care that she had problems too. There was no doubt they all had a right to distance themselves from the destruction she could and would cause, but lately Ian had started to feel tired of being mad. He wanted to spend the last few weeks with her in a positive way. As long as she wasn't doing anything too detrimental, what was the harm? 

Ian's phone buzzed with a reply from Trevor.

_Trevor, 1:42 p.m.  
Sizzler's. like 9:30ish. I'll pick u up. _

*  
*

Mickey woke up to a feeling of pressure on his stomach. He groggily peeled his eyelids open and focused on the figure crouched over him. 

Gabriel grinned down at him. "Te tardaste lo suficiente" he remarked. 

Mickey sat up causing Gabriel to casually slide over onto the sheets. 

"The...fuck? I can barely understand you when I'm awake, what makes you think I can google translate this shit in my sleep man?" 

Gabriel clucked his tongue. "Gonna have to learn eventually right? I'm sure you can say a few sentences by now." 

Mickey rubbed a bruise on the top of his foot from where he'd dropped a weight from working out a few days ago. "How do you say I'm tired and don't know why you're in my bed right now?" 

"Estoy cansado y no sé por qué estas en mi cama ahora mismo." 

Mickey contemplated trying to repeat that for a moment but gave up. "You know what nevermind, I'll stick to hand gestures." 

He flipped Gabriel off and shoved him out of the bed. "What're you doing here? And how'd you even get in?" 

Gabriel followed Mickey into the kitchen and pointed at Mandy, bouncing Yevgeny on her lap at the dining room table. 

"Your sister let me in. And because you drunk voice-texted me last night saying we needed to talk." 

Mickey pressed a hand to his pounding, hungover headache. He checked his phone and sure enough, there were three audio messages to Gabriel a little after 2 a.m. And surprisingly four messages to Ian, none of them delivered thankfully. They were all links to videos that reminded him of Ian. God, how embarrassing. 

One was a time lapse of a sunset, he'd bookmarked it when Ian had sent it to him during his avid phase of sunset-watching. The other three were just funny videos that made him laugh. Nothing specific, just the act of smiling, the creases around his eyes turned up. Just the creases, the upturn of his lips that reminded him of Ian. 

"Right," Mickey said raising his eyes to Gabriel. "My brothers went down to the place to get the stuff right? Gone. All of it. Not a fucking trace anywhere except the shack with the leftovers." 

Gabriel trailed a finger across his lips. Mickey tensed his hand on the counter. Just in case. He didn't know what to make of that man, he'd been surprisingly unpredictable lately. Nothing like how he was in prison. Eye twitched, caught the shine of a knife. 

Just in case. 

Seconds passed before Gabriel shrugged and leaned a hand into the chair. "Nothing you can do. Maybe it was the wrong location." 

Mickey's eyes widened in shock. "Maybe it was...are you kidding me? Who the fuck cares if it was the wrong location! Your uncle's gonna have us shanked and hung up in a Moroccan jail somewhere before tomorrow if we just go with that excuse!" 

Mandy got up with Yevgeny resting in her arms. "Not to interrupt this lovely conversation about the different ways you guys could be brutally murdered, but do you really think he'll notice? I mean, was it really that big a shipment?" 

"There were supposed to be three boats packed up, I don't know what you saw, but yes, it was a huge shipment" Gabriel pointed out. 

Mickey took the baby from Mandy as she washed out the cereal bowl. "Well, Aunt Hazel and Mary were a little late to the party. Apparently they didn't get the memo." 

Gabriel shook his head. "Nah man, it was way more than weed and H. Tío's gonna rip your brothers a new one if he finds out the wrong way. I'll talk to him." 

Mickey let his hand relax off the kitchen counter and eyed the man. He was calm. Too calm for this type of news. "Thanks" he finally said, hesitating. 

Gabriel spread his hands wide. "Anything for you. Listen there's a little party my friend's throwing tonight at Sizzler's for his brother. We're going." 

Mickey adjusted his grip around Yevgeny. "Oh are we?" 

"I already said we'd come. He's gotta reserve tables so no point in cancelling. Plus it's free, we'll have a good time Mickey." 

Gabriel softened his eyes into a pleading stare. 

"Fine, fine. But when you say free you better mean everything's free. I ain't buying anyone a Victoria's Secret gift card or anything." 

"No gifts. Just alcohol and buffet tables." 

Mickey nodded. "Now there's a slogan I can get behind." 

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply when a shattering sound came from behind them. The familiar ricochet of bullets against glass. 

Mickey's body hit the ground before his mind could react and brought Yevgeny down with him. He cradled him tightly and shielded his arms and chest around the boy. He wrenched around to make sure Mandy was on the ground, but he knew he didn't have to. 

After all, she'd been raised in the same house with him. They'd shared beds, broken hearts, and bullets. 

He flattened his body as much as he could while still leaving room for Yevgeny to breathe under him. The hot, sweet taste of metal filled his mouth as the bullets and glass rained down into the living room. He inhaled the young boy's hair, it smelled like vanilla and cherries. Their heads curled together. 

After 20 seconds of what sounded like a machine gun round of shots, there was silence. 

And then a slapping sound. 

And then nothing. 

Mickey waited 20 more seconds to breathe before slowly standing up and taking in the damage. 

The main living room window was completely shattered with just a few jagged edges of glass left. He gestured to Mandy to stay on the ground with Yevgeny as he glanced at Gabriel. They moved toward the living room, the floor riddled with bullets. He looked around at the torn-up furniture and shattered coffee table. On the other side of the table near the window, a sour smell radiated from the ground. 

Mickey peered over to see a dead fish flopped onto the floor. He held his nose to look closer, it didn't look right. Where a hook could've been was a lock. The type you found in the depressing locker rooms in high school where a kid had just been beaten to a pulp by the football team. 

The lock was closed through a hole in the fish's mouth and something shiny poked out of its throat. Mickey bent down and resisted the urge to wretch at the smell. It had obviously been dead for quite a few days. He looked away and stuck a hand down the throat, coming up with a slimy key between his fingers. 

Gabriel walked over and bent down next to him. "That a key?" 

The key in his fingers trembled from the shock of what had just happened. "Yeah," Mickey uttered shakily. 

"Man, you gotta move out of this neighborhood. That happen a lot?" 

Mandy got to her feet trying to calm down Yevgeny who was beginning to cry. "It's happened before but not for awhile" she said. "And usually when we're not home. It's probably because of Terry, right? I mean, people have been throwing shit in our yard for weeks." 

Mickey looked from Mandy to Gabriel, her eyebrows drawn in with concern and fear, his face placid and blank. 

"Yeah but they haven't exactly thrown a round of bullet holes into our window before." He stared at the fish. 

Something wasn't adding up. Something was...well, fishy. 

He ignored the nagging sensation building in his chest and grabbed a broom to sweep up the glass and bullets. 

Gabriel adjusted the strings on his jacket. "Want me to help?" 

Mickey paused his sweeping. "Nah we're good. I'll see you tonight." 

Gabriel nodded and took a last look around the room before leaving. 

"Mickey this isn't okay. Someone could've gotten hurt. Yev could've gotten shot! We could've been on the couch when that happened!" 

Mickey let his head fall back to look at the ceiling. He sucked in a breath before reaching his arms out to his sister and son. "C'mere." He wrapped his arms around Mandy and their bodies formed a bubble around the little boy. He closed his eyes, but it didn't clear his senses of the rotting smell pervading from behind him. He needed a place to think, to make sense of it all. 

"Do you wanna take Yev to the park?" he whispered to Mandy. 

"I can't. I'm supposed to be meeting Ian and Carl at the Navy Pier in a bit. You take him though, I think he'd like that." 

Mickey dumped the glass shards and bullets in a bin to take out to the garbage. "Alright I will. Gotta figure out what to do with this window first. And...that." He nodded to the fish on the ground. 

Mandy found some extra wooden boards from her room where she was building a workplace for sewing and helped him hammer a few down. She drilled the remaining nails in and looked at their handiwork. It wasn't perfect, but it'd do. They made sure there were no gaps in the wood and sealed some bubble wrap and pieces of insulation found around the train tracks nearby. It should keep out most of the below-freezing winds at night, Mickey thought. 

"Alright." He rubbed his hands together and zipped up Yevgeny's jacket. "I think we could use a little break from this house, whaddya think man?" 

The boy rumbled his agreement. 

Mandy looked up at them from the couch. "Didn't think this crappy furniture could get even shittier until now. What should we do with the fish?" 

Mickey waved her off. "I'll handle it. I'll see you later." 

"Listen," Mandy lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, "Don't go with Gabriel tonight. He's a bad guy, Mick. Remember what he did to Ian? And I didn't let him in earlier, he almost knocked the door off its hinges coming in." 

Mickey checked behind him as if making sure Gabriel wasn't about to appear through the door again. 

"I know, I know. But there's something off about him and I gotta find out what it is. Something's not right here. I don't wanna blow it yet. Not until the thing with our brothers gets settled." 

"Fine," Mandy said with a sigh. "Keep an eye on Yev at the park. Don't let him wander off." 

Mickey went back to the kitchen and slapped together a few peanut butter banana sandwiches, cutting another banana into small slices for the boy. He shoved a few apple juices along with the sandwiches and fruit into Svetlana's tote bag she'd left. Back in his room the journal sat on his nightstand. He tossed it into the bag as well and headed out the door, braced for the snapping wind until he remembered the dead sea creature still floating among scraps of glass and metal. 

He used an old baseball mitt to scoop it up and drop it into a plastic bag. The key clinking against the lock as they fell down together. 

Sliding it under the bed for later. Making a mental note to discuss it with his brothers. Waving goodbye to Mandy. Trudging down the street with his son in tow. Thinking. Thinking about a lot of things, but not really anything. Because he couldn't focus on one thing in his life so no real thinking got done. Just walking and wandering and wondering. 

The rickety swing set and rusted picnic tables came into view. It was a small plot of land consisting of the swings, the slide, the trees, and the little pond that held the occasional duckling. He sat down on a bench near the playset and watched Yevgeny toddle around the grass, ripping up patches of it to further examine. 

Mickey lit his cigarette and puffed smoke out into the air. 

The boy inhaled a whiff of the fresh grass. 

Mickey picked at a rusted nail jutting out from the table beside his forearm. 

The boy traced his finger along the slide, chasing an ant. 

Mickey watched his phone for a text from Mandy about how much fixing the window would cost. 

The boy looked on at the duck in the water shooing its baby toward land. 

Mickey cocked his head to the distant blaring of a police siren. 

The boy turned his to the splashing of a frog in the water. 

Smoke swirled around Mickey's tongue. 

The boy bit into a dry flower petal. 

One was living, one was trying. 

Yevgeny eventually waddled over and Mickey lifted him up onto the table. He rummaged for the banana slices in the bag and set a few on a napkin for him while digging into his own sandwich. 

"Hey," Mickey mumbled in between bites, "You ever know what this park's named after?" 

The little boy clapped his sticky hands together in response. 

"Look at that sign over there. See it? Says _'Hunter Sweetin Park.'"_ Mickey pointed at a small, wooden sign a few feet away at the entrance of the park. Complete with the name's faded white letters. 

South Side kid. He lived about a block down from our house. Never knew him though, he died a year before I was born. My ma-," 

Mickey cut himself off and gazed into the pond where the duckling was just stumbling up onto the grass. 

"My ma told me about him though. Said he was a little boy, about eight years old. Didn't like to roughhouse or anything, quiet kid. Kinda kept to himself. Other kids in our neighborhood called him frilly. He liked pink instead of blue, and he noticed things. Like, the beautiful things. Guess he appreciated them more than other people." 

Yevgeny stopped playing with his food and looked at his dad who was fumbling with his hands in his lap. 

"Anyway, kid got made fun of a lot. And one day someone was sitting in the park right here and found him dead in the pond. No one figured out what happened, but people pointed fingers at these older kids who used to harass him to high hell. See the problem was, the kid couldn't swim. So the year I was pushed out, the neighborhood scrounged up as much money as possible and dedicated the park to him. 'Cept the sign's pretty beat up now. Vandalized and shit." 

Mickey realized he'd been droning on for awhile and ripped a small piece of the sandwich off for Yevgeny. 

"Listen kid, I dunno why I told you that. I just...you're gonna be fine, okay? Nothing's gonna happen to you, I promise. I'll keep you safe. I'll kill any fucker who even looks at you wrong. You're not gonna have to deal with what I had to alright? You're gonna be accepted, okay? I'm gonna be better. I'm trying, trying to be better for you. No more going back to jail, no more disappearing or anything." 

Mickey held the boy's tiny hand in his palm. "You don't gotta be brave sometimes, you know? Let me be brave for you. You don't gotta hide what you're feeling either. Wish I'd learned that growing up. I felt...scared a lot. But guess what? It's okay to be scared. I'm gonna give you a better life than what I had, man. You're gonna be fine." 

Mickey rubbed his neck as the words stumbled out. He sighed. 

"My point is, I'll do the worrying for you. You just, be a kid and live how you wanna live. You don't gotta front with me ever. The shit I've been through, it's never gonna touch you. You believe me?" 

He waited for Yevgeny to say something, anything, to silence his rambling that hopefully wasn't for nothing. But instead of saying anything, the boy simply held out his pinky. A small finger, hovering in the winter air. 

Mickey smiled and linked his own pinky finger around his son's. They closed around each other and that was that. The only reassurance Mickey could ever possibly want. He looked back at the small pond and thought of something. 

"You know, one time a long while ago, my dad tried to teach me how to swim. Wasn't much of a teacher though, just threw me in that pond one day. And you know what? I thought of that kid. I thought of that kid and I thought, well, this is how I'm gonna go too. But I didn't."

"Some lady saw that dumbass throw me in and ran over to help me out. And I asked her why she wasn't there for Hunter but she didn't know who Hunter was so I shut up and went home. That ain't gonna happen to you either. I'll teach you how to swim one day, kid." 

And with that they got up to leave, passing the sign until some scrawled writing underneath the letters caught his eye. He bent down to read what it said. 

_'Fag.'_

Simply written. Nothing else. One word. 

Mickey dug around in the tote bag until he found the sharpie stuck into the rings on his journal. He blotted out the three letters into ovals and etched tiny heads, and then beaks, and then legs into the wood. He sat back. 

"Those look like ducks to you? Not my best work." 

He turned to the boy for affirmation. Yevgeny nodded and touched the wet sharpie marks. It stained his fingers black. Mickey pressed his fingers to the little hand so that his fingers came up stained too. "Good." 

*  
*

The worst had already happened. It'd started raining when Mandy pulled up with Ian, Monica, and Carl in her jeep to the Navy Pier. She shut off the engine and whipped her head to the backseat. Carl had called shotgun so the other two were lounging behind them. 

"Well there goes about half the stuff I wanted to do." 

Ian unbuckled the seatbelt and hopped out. "What?" 

"I wanted to go ice skating!" she said, opening an umbrella before following him. 

Carl groaned. "I literally just came here for food. Can't we just, like, ride the Ferris Wheel once, grab some burgers, and dip?" 

"Oooh, I haven't ridden the Ferris Wheel in like a decade!" Monica butted in. 

"Yeah well that's because we're poor mom," Ian pointed out. "And have shit to worry about other than how long the line is at the buffet." 

Monica shivered in the rain. "You know the ice skating rink is inside, right Mandy? They always do that Winter Fest or whatever it's called for the kids." 

Carl started walking down the path that led to the food court. "You guys do what you want but I'm starving" he called behind him. 

Ian looked at Mandy and Monica before shaking his head and following his brother. What a pain in the ass. 

Although Ian wasn't complaining 10 minutes later when they were seated in one of the small tables at America's Dog digging into the hot dogs and curly fries in front of them. 

"Hey, you okay?" Mandy asked Ian, leaning over to pat his hand. 

"Oh, yeah." He hadn't even realized he'd been staring at the untouched food on the table. "I guess you know about..." he said trailing off. 

She looked down. "Yeah, Mick told me." 

The table went silent with all of them staring at Ian. 

"We love you" Mandy finally said. "Uh you know," she added quickly, "like the people at this table. Like me and Carl and um-" 

"Yeah, I know" Ian replied curtly. 

After a few minutes of silence ensued broken up by Monica dragging them all into an argument over who looked more like a child predator, Ted Cruz or Marco Rubio (with Ted Cruz finally bringing home the win), Carl left the table. 

"Gonna get another hot dog" he mumbled. 

Ian caught Mandy staring wistfully at a table a few yards away. There was a man and woman sitting there, both looking to be in their early to mid-20s. The woman was stunning, dark black hair that framed her pale face and rigid jawline, ruby lips, a matching red stone resting on her collarbone. The man was equally as beautiful with a white suit on that stood out against his dark skin. Ian looked back at Mandy with a smirk. 

"Wow," she sighed, "Look at her. Too bad she's on a date." 

Ian bit into the hotdog and wiped the ketchup from his mouth. "Could just be friends. Or siblings." 

Mandy snorted and gestured for Ian to look back at the two who'd just leaned in to kiss. "Oh yeah? You and Lip do that?" 

"Yeah every morning, you and Mick don't?" 

Mandy punched him lightly in the shoulder and they both laughed. Ian looked over to see Carl making his way back to the table when suddenly a man hastily walking by bumped into him. He couldn't see from this distance but it seemed like the man was inquiring about something. He pointed over to their table and Ian turned around quickly. 

A few moments later Carl sat back down with another hotdog. Ian turned around to see that the man was gone. 

"What was that?" 

"What?" Carl muffled out through a bite of the food. 

"Who was that? What'd he want?" 

"Oh I dunno. He asked me if the guy sitting over there was Ian Gallagher." 

Ian frowned in surprise. "Well what'd you say?" 

Carl paused stuffing his face when he saw that both Mandy and Ian were looking at him. "Uh, I said yeah. What else was I supposed to say?" 

Mandy threw her hands up. "Carl!" 

"Jesus!" Ian exclaimed at the same time as her. 

"Oh I'm sorry I'm not a pathological liar and can't just come up with something off the top of my head!" 

Ian set the hotdog down and wiped the grease on his pants. "You could've just kept walking and ignored him! God, it's probably a hitman looking for the right time to take me out!" 

"Can you talk quieter?" Mandy whispered. "It's not a fucking hitman, you're not even involved in that shit." 

Ian got up to throw the trash from his tray out. "Yeah but I was there when it happened." 

His eyes scanned the food court for the guy but the throngs of people made it hard to distinguish anyone. 

"Where's Monica?" Carl asked. 

"Oh fuck" Ian muttered, looking at the empty seat. He swore she'd been sitting there a few minutes ago. 

Mandy flipped her hair and headed toward the foodcourt exit. "She probably wandered away when you were sucking off that hotdog." 

Carl started cracking up at the death glare Ian was giving him. 

They followed her outside where the rain was beating down onto the pavement. There were only a few people standing around, and Ian immediately noticed Monica and her bright purple jacket the distance of a football field away. He nodded to Carl and Mandy and they walked over to where Monica stood, looking up in awe at the Ferris Wheel. 

"You guys! We have to ride this thing! Look at it!" 

Carl rolled his eyes. "We're getting soaked out here and there's barely anyone outside. I don't even see anyone working the ticket line." 

Monica bounced over to the booth and swung the door open to find a young man dozing off in the chair. "Hey this place is still open! We wanna ride!" 

The man looked unimpressed. He let out a deliberate, annoyed grumble before ushering them into the area. 

"What, we don't have to pay?" Mandy asked. 

"Look, I'm about to go on break and no one's here. Just get on with it so we can all leave and go back to our depressing lives" he said. 

Monica and Carl hopped into the very bottom cart lit up with Christmas lights while Mandy and Ian took the one a little higher up. Ian helped hoist her into it and she reached her arm out to pull him up afterward. 

The creaks of the machine rumbled through the carts until finally they lifted off at a slow, rusty speed. 

Mandy intertwined her legs with Ian's as they dangled in the air. She laughed. He smiled. He looked out at the dreary skyline ahead. The lake was a dull grey, absorbing the rain and releasing fog up into the buildings above it. He could just barely make out the outline of the cityscape, the sprawling white streets and the black dots moving about. 

It was nothing. But it was everything he'd known. 

Ian glanced back to see Carl pointing out something to Monica. Her face glittered with happiness and she flailed her legs in the air. 

"Having fun Ian?" she yelled over to him. He nodded and turned to Mandy. She took his hand and leaned in so that he could hear her over the rain and wind and music booming from the street. 

"I'm glad I'm here." 

"Me too. Happy you could come." 

"No," she rested her head on his shoulder, "I'm glad I'm here." Waving her arms toward the city. "I'm glad I came back here. It's home, you know? But not so scary now." 

He scooted closer and put an arm around her to shield them from the whipping wind. "It's still kinda scary for me. Everything's just...moving so fast. Like I can't just sit down for one second because I'll miss something." 

She swung her legs lazily in a circle. "So miss something, who cares? The stuff you really want, you'll make it happen. Gotta make an effort. But the other stuff, the details, don't worry so much. They'll fill themselves out." 

"But the problem is," Ian said in an exhaling breath, "I think I already fucked the first part up. Something I really wanted. I dunno, it's kinda gone now. I don't think I can go back." 

He looked down at the side of her face. Eyes veiled by dark eyelashes. 

"What was it?" Mandy asked to her lap, knowing what he'd say. 

Remembering the floor of their house last night covered in spilled beer and wet clay. 

They rose higher.  
40 feet,  
80 feet,  
100\. 

Ian didn't answer. 

"You know," she said with a chuckle, "You sound just like him. You both keep saying how you fucked up and shit so either get over it or talk about it, you know? Because this in between thing you guys are doing? It doesn't work." 

Ian waited. 

Counted to three. 

A word for each second. 

Three seconds, three words. 

"I love him." 

The lights around them blinked  
on, off, on, off, on. 

Fog reached up, rain reached down.

Gears spurring around and around. 

A hymn praising Mary from below them stuck on repeat in the boom box. 

"But I dunno if he, uh, you know, because it's different now. I mean you know, with Gabriel-" 

Mandy's voice came out slow and steady, a sharp cut into his thoughts. "Ian. I can promise you that Mickey doesn't care about him. It's just...complicated." 

She could still hear the glass shattering and the bullet pings on the ground. 

Ian wanted to curl into himself, shut his mind off, take the words back, something. It was too permanent. And he didn't like permanence because it had always been a false gift in his life. But there they were, released into the frigid air. 

For someone else's ears other than his own at night when he repeated it to himself to make sure it was still true. And it was, even saying them out loud, it didn't feel wrong. 

Just strange. Admitting it out loud, because then it became real. 

A raindrop slipped down his face and caught on his eyelash. 

She persisted. "So tell him." 

They rose higher.  
125 feet,  
150 feet,  
170\. 

And then Ian's neck jerked back as the cart lurched to a sudden stop. He craned his neck around to look at Monica and Carl, equally confused. 

"Yo we're not done yet!," Carl yelled down. "If I'm gonna be dragged up here I'm at least gonna get the full ride!" 

Ian turned to take in the street down below him. His eye caught the gleam of something in the air, illuminated by one of the streetlights. 

A man stepped out of the shadows and they made eye contact. He carelessly flipped a key into the air that spiraled and shimmered when it came back to rest in his hand. From this height, Ian couldn't distinguish any of the man's features, just the key turning tricks through the fog and the dark purple checkered jacket that resembled the one of the food court guy. 

The man threw one last look behind his shoulder before taking off toward the parking garage where they'd left the car. 

"Oh god, oh god," Ian muttered. "Oh god," louder now, "He's gonna do something! Like, plant a bomb or something! We gotta get out of here!" 

Mandy stared at him incredulously. "What the actual hell are you talking about?" 

Ian kicked his legs in frustration. _Why wasn't the damn thing moving?_

"That guy down there! He was the one asking about me and just took off toward the garage where we parked!" 

She swore and they looked back to consult with the others. 

Monica squealed. "I love when this happens! It's like on an airplane when you can't tell it's moving and ya just get to look out at the scenery! Mother Nature baby!" 

They took turns shouting in hopes of getting the attention of a passerby, but most of the crowd was piled up in the food court trying to avoid the rain. 

When Ian's voice had almost given out from yelling, all four of them now shivering in the exposed breeze, a churning sound quivered through the carts and they began moving forward, up, down, and back to the ground. 

Carl burst into the ticket booth ready to chew out the son of a bitch who most likely had fallen asleep, but no one was there. He returned to them huddling a few yards away. 

"The fuck? There wasn't anyone in there. Dude just left us up there!" he said, scratching his head. 

Mandy followed the path down to the parking garage, her heels clipping against the cracks in the sidewalk. 

When they all arrived at the car, Ian held out his hand and put a finger to his lips. They waited as he creeped around the side to see if anyone was in the car waiting to nail them. He couldn't see a figure inside and, crouching down, the space under the Jeep was empty also. 

It was so quiet Ian could hear the soft tap of his nails against the darkened windows. 

He waved his hand to signal that everything looked okay. 

Ian opened the door to the backseat and was beginning to hop in when the smell hit him. It knocked him back, hauled a wretching sound out of his throat. His stomach convulsed and the hot dog almost made its reappearance until he forced himself to lean back on the car with a hand over his mouth. The others were equally as stunned by the smell permeating through the seats. 

"I know," Mandy said through a fit of coughing, "I know what it is." 

They searched the seats until Ian lifted up the extra jacket where he'd been sitting and found the source of it. 

Slumped under the material, a dead fish gazed back at him with glassy eyes. 

Ian risked leaning down to take a closer look. A metal lock was secured through its mouth and a key stuck out of its throat. 

"What in the actual..." he trailed off. 

Mandy joined him by the door. "We found one earlier today in our house too. Some fucktard threw it in our window after lighting up our whole living room." 

Ian frowned at this. Was someone playing a prank on them? Seemed like a lot of work just to have the end result be a rotting fish as the surprise. Although pranks didn't usually end with a round of bullets almost taking someone's head off. Then again, it was South Side. 

Ian used the jacket to flip the fish out onto the garage floor before rummaging for the perfume Mandy had recently been keeping in the cup holders. He sprayed as much of it as they could all take and scooted over to the middle seat. 

"Wait!" Mandy exclaimed as he buckled the seatbelt. 

She retrieved the lock and key with a series of gagging noises. 

"Mandy we gotta go. I don't wanna hang around and wait for Mr. Creepy Fisherman to come back and see we didn't much like his gift." 

Mandy shoved the lock and key toward an unenthusiastic Carl in the front seat and locked the doors before tearing out of the parking garage. 

 

When she dropped them off at the house, Ian rested his arms on the window making sure Monica and Carl were out of earshot. 

"Hey, be careful" she said tentatively. 

He nodded. "You too. I'll call you later okay? I can help pay for the window." 

She gave him an appreciative smile before leaving him standing outside the house in the dark. 

Inside, Monica had Franny in her lap on the living room chair. "Thanks for taking me Ian it was so fun!" 

"Sure mom." 

He guessed she had tuned out the part where someone stalked them and somehow got into Mandy's car even though she'd locked it. Typical Monica. 

Ian caught Carl going up the stairs with a bag of chips and stopped him. "Hey uh, let's not mention any of this to Fiona. Or Lip for that matter. Just, you know, 'til I can figure it all out. Alright?" 

Carl shrugged in agreement and headed upstairs. 

Ian just had time to change into a dark black tank top layered with a deep grey button up and jeans before there was a horn honking outside on the street. He waved goodbye to Monica and Franny on the chair before stepping out to meet Trevor at his car. 

He rolled down the window, not unlocking the car door for Ian yet. 

"What, were you having an orgy or something in there? What took so long?" 

Ian grimaced. "Jesus, no. Had to change from going out." 

Trevor still wouldn't unlock the door. "Where were you?" 

Ian threw his hands up. "The fucking Navy Pier with my dying mom! Now can you unlock the door?" 

Trevor rolled the window back up and Ian heard the click of the door. 

He was already regretting going to this thing. 

Trevor turned up the radio on the way there so that by the time they found parking, Ian's hearing was permanently scarred by Meghan Trainor's "NO" and "All About That Bass." 

They walked through the doors and were bombarded by hoards of people eating, drinking, and dancing to the club music blasting from a DJ in the front of the restaurant. 

"Hey dude!" A tall, athletic-looking African American man waltzed up to them and slapped Trevor on the back. "Glad you could make it!" 

Trevor gestured to Ian. "Ian, this is Marcus, Marcus, Ian. He's my neighbor, lives a few apartments down." 

Marcus shook his hand firmly. "Good to meet you! Listen, if you need anything just let me know. I'm kinda in charge of getting everything ready for when Xavier comes. It's supposed to be a surprise when he comes in. He thinks he's just meeting me for drinks." 

Ian looked around, the place was packed full of buffet tables and balloons and alcohol. But he knew there were a few tables behind the party room wall that were usually closed off to business meetings and such. 

Marcus left them to walk around and make small talk with some of the other guests. 

They eventually sat down at a table and Ian found himself checking the time, wondering when he could leave. 

"So." Trevor leaned forward a little and rocked the table. "Having fun?" 

Ian looked up and sheepishly put his phone down. "Uh, yeah." 

"Hmmm, I wonder if my other neighbor's coming. That would be interesting." 

Ian looked up at that comment. "Huh?" 

"Ex-con. Just got out a few months ago actually. His cousins were crashing there when he was gone but," Trevor rolled his eyes, "he's back now. How awesome. Living next to a criminal." 

Ian shot up. "Bathroom" he mumbled before rushing off to find the familiar sign above the door. He closed himself in a stall and sat on the lid of the toilet. 

_Hey, he thought, maybe if I just sat here for the next hour no one would know? Or I could slip out the back entrance right now before it got messy._

Ian decided on this plan of action and opened the door. He skid past some drunk men trying to lift the table of chicken wings with their legs, don't ask, and then realized he'd left his phone at the table. 

_Fuck, gotta go back._

The last thing he wanted was for Trevor to drop his phone off an hour later and chew him out for skipping. 

He trudged back and was thinking of an excuse when he heard a chorus of yells behind him. Dressed in a deep purple dress shirt and black slacks, Gabriel surged through the doors with an arm slung around who Ian could only guess was Xavier. 

"SURPRISE!" the crowd shouted to the man and then they were lost in the swarm of people rushing to greet him. Ian had lost his chance to leave at this point back at Trevor's table. 

His eyes scanned the throng for that face. _That face. Goddam that face, Ian thought, the problems it'd caused him for the past who knows how long._

The door swung open again and Mickey strode in with a beer in one hand and a bedazzled gift in the other.

Ian snorted. Unless Mandy had strapped him to a chair and forced him to learn the art of fashionably wrapping presents, that was definitely not his handiwork. Neither were the expensive skinny jeans and white cotton shirt with the top buttons undone, unless he'd taken some tips from Gabriel. 

Mickey still hadn't noticed him. Trevor sure did notice Ian staring goggle-eyed at him though. 

He whistled and chugged down the rest of his water. "Who's that?" 

Ian snapped out of his moment and looked back. "Which one?" 

Trevor nodded to Mickey who was being introduced to Marcus by Gabriel. "Dark hair, 3 o'clock." 

Ian drew his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "How should I know?" 

"Because he's heading our way right now" Trevor said matter-of-factly. 

Ian turned to see that Mickey was indeed walking straight toward them, occasionally swaying over to a table to pop some food into his mouth. 

"Hey" he said to the back of Ian's head. 

Ian stiffened. He could feel Mickey's hands touching his chair. If Ian leaned just a few inches back he'd be able to feel them too. 

"I'm Mickey." His voice came out with a confident ease that Ian had only experienced a few times in public. 

Trevor reached over to shake his hand. "Trevor." 

"Ah so, ahh I see" Mickey said. "You live beside Gabriel right?" 

"I do, yeah. And you are...?" Trevor trailed off. 

Mickey stared blankly at him. "I'm Mickey Milkovich." 

Trevor laughed, an embarrassed stutter rising up in his voice. "Oh I know, you just said. But I mean like, in relation to Marcus? And Gabriel?" 

Ian still hadn't turned around. He faced straight forward and tried to focus on a painting hung up a few feet away. 

"I dunno who the fuck Marcus is but...Gabriel and I hang out." 

Ian could see the grin spreading on Mickey's face without even having to look. Trevor nodded and the conversation lulled. 

Mickey clapped his hands finally. "Well, I see you and Gallagher here are having a real heart-to-heart chat right now so I'll leave you to it! Just wanted to introduce myself." 

He flashed a grin and sauntered back into the music and laughter. 

Trevor sighed. "Wow." 

Ian let his body relax and cracked his neck. "Wow what? Seems like a douche to me" he muttered. 

He tried to hide his trembling hand by picking up a glass of water, but the ice cubes shook and he gave up. 

"Well he seems to know you from the fact that he called you Gallagher. How do you know each other?" 

Ian searched for some bit of truth to latch onto. "We were neighborhood friends growing up. South Side kids gotta stick together, ya know." 

Trevor whistled again approvingly. "Well damn if I'd known that's how the South Side guys looked, I'd move my ass down there right now." 

Ian gave him a distasteful look over his raised glass. "Must be fun getting to choose between an apartment in a nice neighborhood and a broken down shithole. Seems like a cool game." 

"It's a joke, Ian. Lighten the fuck up. What's wrong with you? You look like you just took 50 shots of caffeine and then ate some expired yogurt." 

Ian shrugged and felt two hands grip his upturned shoulders firmly. 

"Trevor, glad you could come" Gabriel's voice rang out from behind him. 

"Me too, this is Ian my boyf-" 

"We've met." His voice came out cold. 

Ian wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but it seemed like the fingernails resting on his shoulders dug in a bit harder. 

"Well don't be a stranger! Come on Trevor, let me get some food for you. Introduce you to some people." 

Trevor gestured for Ian to get up with him, but he shook his head and remained in the seat. Trevor shrugged and left. 

*  
*

Mickey kept his eye on the table to see if anyone was going up to Ian trying to make conversation. Although with the death glare on his face, Mickey guessed people were steering clear of the steaming redhead. 

Gabriel took his arms and swung him around to the rhythm of the song. "Marcus and Xavier, they're nice eh?" 

"Yeah real nice," Mickey remarked, "Except the skinny one keeps giving me the stink eye for not bringing him something. I thought you said I didn't have to!" 

Gabriel laughed and looked around. "Nah he's good. Just a bit prissy I guess. I talked to your little friends over there." 

Mickey ripped his hand away. "Fuck no. You remember what I fucking said? I don't want you talking to him." 

"It's all in good fun. Good fun. Come on, relax. All I said was hey. Plus the other one's my bitch of a neighbor. Complains about every fucking thing. 'Hey the music's too loud can you turn it down?' 'Your cousins threw a bunch of beer cans in my lawn can you pick them up?' 'I heard a scream come from your house should I call the police?' Shit like that." 

_God,_ Mickey thought, _this really wasn't a good idea to have Gabriel and Ian in the same room. Especially now, he didn't trust the guy._

But he also couldn't confront him about it yet. Not the right time. Not yet, not now. 

Gabriel got bored and wandered over to the party guests, leaving Mickey to breathe over by one of the tables of food. 

His eyes found the table Ian had been sitting at, but he was gone. 

_Good, he's out of Gabriel's line of fire. And Trevor's, if he was being honest. God, that kid seemed annoying as shit._

But another feeling took precedence. Something he couldn't control brewing up through his chest. Disappointment. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to talk to him so badly, but he couldn't. Not in private. At least not somewhere that he couldn't escape back into the mass of bodies. He didn't trust himself alone with Ian. Didn't trust his mind, his thoughts, his body. 

_His_ body, _his_ thoughts. 

Mickey peeked around a few corners before he found Ian sitting alone at one of the tables usually reserved for business conferences. 

_This is fine, completely fine. Not totally shut out from the noise. Not the overwhelming silence that led to him saying things to regret later. He still had control. He could detach right away if he wanted to. If. Did he, though? Want to?_

Mickey still hadn't seen his face, turned away now as it was a few minutes ago. 

"You're missing the party" he whispered. Except it didn't come out as quiet as he'd hoped. It reverberated through the hollow room and landed in front of Ian. 

"Yeah some party. My deadbeat boyfriend and yours. You know, the one that almost choked me to death and broke my nose?" 

"He's not." Mickey cleared his throat, trying again. "He's not my boyfriend." 

"Oh," was all Ian replied. 

Mickey entered the room fully, walking by the chair, stealing a glance at his side profile, flushed and pale at the same time. He lowered himself with a grunt into the chair across from Ian. 

The table was small. The room seemed smaller. He, the smallest. 

"I don't wanna pretend," slowly. Slowly. "I don't wanna pretend that I don't care about you." 

Ian risked looking up at that. "You kinda suck at pretending. Or else you wouldn't have come to the field. And taken me home from the club." 

Mickey nodded. He was right. What could he say? Pretending was something of the past for him. That mask had fallen off a long time ago. He'd forgotten how to pretend. Especially with Ian. 

"I know. It's still hard. Coming back and seeing you after that gap. The fucking gap, man." 

"The fucking gap" Ian said in agreement. "A lot happened in that gap. And you didn't know because I didn't let you know. I think that's the problem, right? We got into a routine and now it's all fucked." 

Mickey slid the plate of chicken wings over that he'd brought in from the buffet. 

"It's no steak, but..." he remarked. 

Ian's mouth twitched before he started snickering, which soon turned into a burst of laughter. He start wheezing, his voice reaching a hysterical pitch, and leaned his forehead onto the table. 

A giggle rose up in Mickey and, before he could stop, it bubbled into hysterical laughter as well. Except he was mainly just laughing because Ian was laughing. 

_What the fuck was he laughing at? God, this kid was strange._

Their shoulders shook and tears streamed down their faces as they cracked up into their laps. Ian's laugh turned into a fit of coughing and he gulped down the glass of water while he recovered. They gasped for breath. 

Honest to god Ian didn't even know why he was laughing. The fucker wasn't _that funny._

Mickey rested his palms on either side of his jawline and leaned in closer. Ian's face was flushed. His cheeks gave away the rosy hysteria, his eyes still welling up with tears. They looked at each other for awhile without speaking. What was there to say? 

Everything. Nothing. 

"Our boyfriends suck" Ian finally pointed out. 

Mickey picked up a chicken wing off the plate, wiping the barbecue sauce on his pants. "How'd we wind up with such shitty people?" 

Ian shook his head, hell if he knew. "You left. The baseball field, right?" 

Mickey sighed. "You left first." 

"True" Ian said. 

He picked up an untouched strawberry on the plate and bit into it before pushing it back toward Mickey. 

The room was dark. Mickey took his lighter and reached over to the candle between them. Ian watched as the flame sputtered before blooming up and out. 

The light flickered and cast a shadow against their cheeks. 

Mickey chuckled. "Is this a fuckin' date?" 

Ian studied his face. He liked the curve of his nose and how the eyelashes took a long time to reach down and back toward his eyebrows when he blinked. And he liked the expression on his face right now. His lips were upturned in a small, unsure smile. His eyes asking him. 

Ian answered. 

He took hold of Mickey's sleeve still resting near the candle and pulled him closer. Their lips met halfway, splitting the table down the middle. The usual frantic movements were gone. 

Mickey brought his hand up to caress the side of Ian's face as Ian moved to avoid the potential burning from the candle. Ian breathed in the apple juice and dead grass and cologne and sweet bullets from earlier. 

Ian sighed into the kiss. Mickey slid his mouth over Ian's, gently nipping at his bottom lip before dropping his hands and face away. His voice came out shaky when he finally pulled all the way back to his seat. 

"You wearing my sister's perfume?" 

Ian opened his glazed-over eyes. He had a dumb grin on his face that wouldn't go away. "Long story." 

He didn't feel like explaining the guy and the weird discovery in the car and he didn't feel like asking about the window right now. He'd let reality catch up tomorrow, but for now he would look at the man he thought was his past and let it all happen. 

"Isn't it always with you." 

Mickey heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Marcus stumbling in, drunk out of his mind. 

"Heyyyyyy you! We're doing some karaoke c'mon! Sing somethin' for us! Bet you got some good vocals!" 

Mickey looked back and Ian made a waving motion. 

_'Go,'_ it said, _'have fun. I'll be here.'_

Mickey squeezed his hand, following Marcus while leaving the door open so that Ian could hear the dull sounds of conversation and partying. 

Back outside in the main area, people took turns wobbling up onstage and singing along to some 90s songs the DJ had picked. 

He saw Gabriel from across the room glaring at him. The man's eyes slitted, carefully watching his every step. 

Mickey took a swig of beer, popped a hush puppy into his mouth, and rested against a wall near the makeshift stage. 

He touched his lips. 

_His_ lips. 

His tongue ran across the sweet tinge of lemon that must've been in Ian's water. It burned. But it felt good. Maybe they were in a good place, this burning wasn't so bad. It was just enough to keep Mickey from losing it. Not too fast, he could handle this. Maybe they'd found the middle, the eye of the hurricane. 

Maybe. 

Marcus had just got done singing along to some song Mickey had never heard of when the guy spotted him and started chanting his name into the microphone. The crowd joined in, half of them not even sure what they were chanting about, and finally Mickey got hauled up on stage. 

He shuffled around. He'd never felt too comfortable in front of crowds. Except for at the club where he knew no one was judging him.

Marcus occupied the DJ's seat and yelled over the countless voices spinning around the room. "Yo what song you want!" 

Mickey shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Pick one!" 

The familiar fast paced tune of "Wannabe" by Spice Girls came on and he threw his head back in a laugh. Oh boy, this wasn't gonna go well. 

He tried to jump into the third verse and Marcus hopped up with a microphone to help him out. 

Marcus started them off and they alternated verses, pointing their hands toward the crowd and hopping up and down to get them to sing along. 

Marcus gestured at his chest. _"So tell me what you want what you really really want!"_

Mickey cut in. _"I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna I wanna really really really wanna zig a zig ah!"_

He stepped back to let Marcus take the next verse, counting the beat until it was time. 

_"If you want my future, forget my past."_

Now. _"If you wanna get with me"_ Mickey sung a bit drunkenly offkey, running his hand down his shirt, _"Better make it fast!"_

That got a few appreciative whoops and whistles from the crowd. 

They continued with the zig a zig ah's and the really really wants until both men were panting onstage at the final lyrics. 

_"If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give!"_

Marcus joined him for the last few lines as well as the partygoers who were pressed together and dancing. Mickey bounced to the beat and he felt the sweat running down his forehead. 

_"Slam your body down and wind it all around! Slam your body down and zig a zig ah!"_

Ian's ears had perked up at the unfamiliar sound of Mickey singing and he finally got up to see what was going on. 

He emerged out into the audience at the last verse to a glistening, panting Mickey onstage beaming at the fact that he hadn't made a complete fool of himself. 

Well, he still had. But at least he didn't mess up the lyrics. 

The song faded but Mickey didn't seem to be getting down. He waved for Marcus to play something else while he bent down to circulate some air back through his lungs. 

Ian heard the notes of a lone guitar strumming steadily before what sounded like an electric guitar and some drum beats joined in. Mickey shook his hands out with a distant stare at the back wall before fingering the mic again. 

He was thanking his mom right now for playing this song on the crappy stereo everyday while she smoked her lungs out. "What's Up?" by 4 Non Blondes was one of her favorites while she slowly killed herself.

_"Twenty-five years and my life is still,_  
_Trying to get up that great big hill of hope.  
For a destination." _

He gripped the microphone tighter, smiling at the effort it took to keep his voice smooth.

_"I realized quickly when I knew I should_  
_That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man,_   
_For whatever that means."_

His body knew he was there among the faceless in front of him before his mind did. He caught him slipping through the crowd to watch. Slipping closer. Slipping.

_"And so I cry sometimes_  
_When I'm lying in bed_   
_Just to get it all out_   
_What's in my head_   
_And I, I'm feeling a little peculiar."_

Mickey's voice caught on the last note as Ian parted the mass of bodies to hoist himself onto the stage. But Mickey kept going, determined not to mess it up. Ian stood a few feet away and watched him.

_"And so I wake in the morning_  
_And I step outside_   
_And I take a deep breath and I get real high_   
_And I scream from the top of my lungs_   
_What's going on?"_

'What's going on?' Mickey thought to himself. What the fuck was going on? 

Ian swayed and caught the microphone that Marcus tossed to him with a knowing wink. Mickey's knees buckled and he turned to Ian who stepped closer to face him. 

Together;

_"And I say hey hey hey hey_  
_Hey hey hey_   
_I said hey,_   
_What's going on?"_

Asking each other that question. Screaming it, belting out each word like there wasn't an audience of people tilting their bodies to the lyrics. Repeating it to the other, making sure, not sure, good, they were both unsure at least. 

Mickey shook his head and let Ian take the next part. He felt hysterical. Like if he tried to sing anymore it'd end in another laughing fit.

_"Ooh, oh, ooooh, ooooh."_ Ian grinned. His voice sounded terrible and raspy but it sounded heavenly to the other beside of him. He twirled around Mickey at each little word and ended up on his left. 

Mickey shook his head as a smile threatened its way onto his lips. God this guy was embarrassing. He let Ian take the next verse, gasping for breathes that didn't seem to want to come. 

_"And I try, oh my god do I try,_  
_I try all the time_   
_In this institution!"_

Ian nodded to him.

_"And I pray, oh my god do I pray,_  
_I pray every single day_   
_For a revolution!"_

 

Voice ragged for a revolution.

 

They cried out the lyrics over and over and over until the song reached its soft, resounding end. 

Ian thought about the risk again. The damn risk, that's what it always led to. 

_Fuck the risk._ He closed the gap. Now he was within inches of Mickey's sweat and his nose and his skin and his scorched eyes filled with exhaustion and effort and a hint of alcohol. 

The room had emptied somehow, maybe the rain had stopped and the audience had places to be because no one was left except them. Ian clasped the back of his neck and the song ended with them like that, whispering the dying chords. 

_"Twenty-five years and my life is still,_  
_Trying to get up that great big hill of hope,_   
_For a destination."_

Mickey reached up and the black ink of his knuckles closed around Ian's collar. He hummed. The song ended. Both of their chests rose and fell. 

"You didn't leave this time" Ian sighed out. 

Mickey adjusted the collar he held in his grip. "You're under my skin man, the fuck can I do?" He patted Ian's cheek. "Hm? What can I do?" 

Maybe it was still raining because the crowd suddenly piled back in. Gone one moment, there the next. Except most of them were just staring at the stage, waiting for something else to happen. 

Mickey slapped Ian's back and he hopped down onto slightly unstable footing. Marcus was already back onstage looking for more willing volunteers to try their hand at a song. 

"That was the straightest, most High School Musical ass shit I've ever been a part of. The fuck did they cast Zac Efron's fake ass for? We coulda ran circles around him!" 

Ian giggled uncontrollably. "Because he's hot," he pointed out. 

"Ah fuck off. So are we!" 

Ian's eyes flicked around and saw Trevor shoving the door open to leave. "Oh shit" he muttered. 

Mickey noticed what he was looking at. "Oh. Shit" he nodded in agreement. "Isn't he your ride? Better go, uh...figure that out." 

Ian slapped a hand across his eyes. "I'll be right back, okay? Wait for me?" 

Mickey took a long look at him, drinking in the sweat and flushed cheeks and chaotic, fiery hair. 

"I'll wait" he finally agreed. 

Ian burst outside. The temperature dropped from the hot, busy party to the bitter, isolated parking lot. 

At the same time, Mickey sauntered out to lean against the restaurant's wall next to an alleyway. From here he could see two figures a few yards away briskly walking to the line of cars. One trying to catch up to the other. 

He looked down and lazily kicked his shoe against the brick. He smiled giddily. 

So this was what it was like, this feeling he'd almost forgotten about. 

Mickey was wasted. But not on the beer from inside. That had only gotten him a bit tipsy. On something else. Someone else. 

Addicted. Ian's lips, the cigarette. His breath, the smoke. 

But maybe Mickey was too wasted now. Too much so that he didn't notice the creak of a side exit behind him.  
Or the squeak of shoes  
on muddy alleyway water.  
Or the whistling of the catchy song  
he'd just burst his lungs out to. 

Although he did notice the sudden steel blade wrapping around to bite the front of his throat.


End file.
